


incandescent lights

by moonlights0nata



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M, Ryoken is a witch, Ryoken vc: I mean I'm not a furry but who knows?, Slow Burn, Takeru is a wolf(man)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlights0nata/pseuds/moonlights0nata
Summary: As dusk falls, the forest watches over a fated meeting: Ryoken, who has been running away as long as he can remember, and Takeru, who contents himself with a quiet, isolated life.A desperate measure to stay alive and a shared past from fifteen years ago will intertwine their lives.
Relationships: Homura Takeru/Revolver | Kougami Ryouken
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	incandescent lights

**Author's Note:**

> ✨🐺HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE !!!!🐺✨
> 
> For those that have seen the memes and the doodles on twitter.....for those I have yelled in their dms about this story.....for those that have no hecking clue what's going on !!!!  
> Part 1 of Witch!Ryoken and Wolfkeru is here! 
> 
> My original plan was to finish the whole story within a month. But then um--part 1 became 22k words long? And I got so many ideas for the next parts? It became so much bigger and ambitious. But I'm very excited to finally share this part with you all!
> 
> If you want some background music to listen to while reading, I recommend [these](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTLunRuCGQQ) [sweet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTwuNaSlq4I) [albums!](https://youtu.be/h0AccW9Birk) I listened to them on loop a lot while writing.  
> [Also, a spotify mini-playlist for this fic!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4kLfSWWl310McDX0K8oSkj?si=N7uRaFD-R_Cp_AwYEzXZiw) Still a bit of a WIP but those songs were great inspiration too. Specially [these](https://youtu.be/vUTR5890t2o) [two](https://youtu.be/5v8wqI8KE_E).
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc. always appreciated! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GENERAL CW (PART 1):  
> >blood / injuries / animal injury (not overly graphic)  
> >drowning mention  
> >death mention(s)
> 
> Nothing is very severe for this part tbh but do let me know. Rating is M to be safe/for later parts :>

Running away is all Ryoken’s ever known.

The scrape of boots against the dirt. Rushed steps, erratic breathing, frantic pulse. An arrow cutting through the air--

Ryoken wheezes, stumbling sideways, as it grazes his shoulder but misses its target. He grabs onto a tree and continues running. No time to care for the blood dripping from his arm.

Running is all he has left. It’s what he’s been doing his whole life--as far as he can remember.

The blade wound he’d sustained to his side earlier aches. He presses his hand tighter against it, though it hardly contains the bleeding. His energies are waning and his pursuers will eventually catch up to him. 

Another arrow misses his head by a hair. They are closer, their steps are so much louder.

The sky is turning orange, the shadows in the forest stretching almost enough to touch but it's not enough, yet. The cover of the night would be a safer embrace.

He deviates from the path with a sharp turn left and slides down a grassy incline. He trips at the base of it, falling face first onto the grass, but raises himself on his good arm. Keeps running, even when his legs protest.

How often has Ryoken been in this exact same situation? 

Was there ever a time when he wasn’t escaping to keep his miserable life?

Even now--is there a point?

The three villagers are yelling among themselves. Closer, closer, louder. 

_I should--_

A force collides against him from the left and the wind is knocked out of him as he crashes onto the grass. He exhales sharply. 

Hot, humid breathing fans his face.

Ryoken blinks rapidly: a large, grey wolf is looming over him with its fangs bared, yellow eyes fixed on him. Hungry, bloodthirsty.

This beast wants to kill him.

The wolf opens its mouth to strike just as Ryoken rises his open palm, light flashing out of it right in the wolf’s face. It recoils back, eyes scrunching shut, and Ryoken rolls away from underneath it. He wobbles back to his feet when the wolf rounds on him, every hair on its back standing on end. It lunges again. Ryoken side steps it, but the wolf’s claws slash his leg. Ryoken crumbles to the ground with a cry.

He whirls his upper body around. The animal is staring him down. There’s something intelligent behind those eyes: solely focused on him, as though Ryoken had personally slighted it.

It’s not an animal desperate for a meal. It’s someone ready to end him.

“This way!”

The trail of blood created from his wounds is leading the villagers to them. Their steps are almost there. 

Closer, closer, louder.

The wolf leans back on its hind legs. The forest is painted red and the shadows close in, not to offer him coverage but signaling his inevitable demise.

Either the beast tears his throat apart, he bleeds out to death or the villagers keep him alive long enough to burn him at the stake. Watch his skin and bone turn to ashes for their own gratification, in the pretense of freeing the world of one more monster. 

No exit in sight.

Yet, If Ryoken’s bound to die either way, he’ll choose his poison. He’s not drinking that cup tonight.

So he breathes deeply and begins to mutter under his breath. Magic thrums under his skin, begs to be released. The act catches the wolf’s attention and it growls.

It all happens in slow motion: the wolf dashes forward, its claws drawn; Ryoken lifts his glowing hands.

The moment he touches the wolf, its body and his light up and his breath stops: another heartbeat, like his own, thrums under his digits, as though Ryoken were holding this being's very core in his hands. The energy that surges from it could overpower him, were the wolf aware of Ryoken's intentions.

A name flashes in Ryoken’s mind. He finishes the chant with it, like stamping a seal at the end.

Time resumes, and he slams against the grass, with the wolf’s weight atop him. Its claws dig into his arms but the attack abruptly stops. The animal jolts back. There’s now a halo of light around its neck, matching the one circling Ryoken’s.

Right on time, too: the villagers are here. One armed with a bow, another with a pointed stick and the other with a torch.

“End of the line, monster,” A man says, bow draw taunt and aimed at him. “Don’t resist.”

“...Hah.” Laughter bubbles up from within Ryoken, his lips curling in a wicked grin. He rises on his elbows and grunts as he sits up. He meets the wolf's eyes.

“ _Takeru_ ,” He calls, and the wolf's back straightens. Ryoken points at the villagers. “You who are bound to me--protect me!”

_If this didn’t work…_

The animal steps in front of him. As though a shield, standing up to the villagers, and it brings them pause. The animal is bigger than the common wolf, thrumming with energy. Even humans without magic should sense it.

“It’s just a wolf,” One of the men says. “Shoot it down!”

The arrow flies through the air--and the wolf bats it away with a paw. The villagers cower as the wolf approaches with its teeth drawn back. 

Their rudimentary weapons do nothing against it: one of the fools tries to hit it with his wooden stick only for the wolf to seize it between its canines and send the man flying against the bark of a tree. The one with the torch attempts to push it back with fire but the wolf remains unphased: it bites his wrist and then steps on the small flame to blow it out.

“Ah, do not kill them, by the way.” Ryoken says. _Just in case_. Mindless as they are, Ryoken doesn’t want them as dead as they want him. It's more troublesome for him later.

When it becomes evident to the villagers that they are outmatched, and after one sustains a heavier wound, they scramble. Cursing and shouting, their steps fade in the distance.

Ryoken lets out a breathy laugh, his head falling back. 

“Impressive. So that was all I needed to make them turn in fear...” He leans against a tree to push himself up, stepping with his good leg. He looks at the wolf. “Good job.”

Growling builds up within it, its hairs rising, before it turns to him--and it’s in that moment that it transforms.

Ryoken comes eye to eye with a young man.

“What the FUCK did you do to me?!”

A very naked, very pissed young man, wolf ears and tail standing forward. 

_Takeru._

He lunges for Ryoken but his claws don't even brush his throat before the collar around his neck tightens. He falls to his knees.

“Hah--What--”

“Ah, I would not do that if I were you,” Ryoken explains, brushing dirt off his clothes. “It will only hurt you.”

“What's this thing?!” His claws only pass through the light. “Fuck, stupid magic--”

“You were trying to kill me, so I bound you to me. I had little choice in the matter given the situation.” Ryoken shrugs, and the movement makes him wince. It tugs at his wounds. Now that the rush of running is dying down, a weight is crashing down on him...

“ _Bastard_ ,” Takeru stands back up. Amber eyes glare at him. “You came to finish what you started, didn’t you?”

“...Huh?” Ryoken squints. It’s getting darker, the reds turning to purples. “I do not know you.”

“Don’t lie! I know your scent, _witch_. You reek of magic. Like _that man_.” His voice raises as he speaks, a rumble at the back of his throat. He swings at Ryoken.

“You _ruined my life_.”

With enough impulse, he manages to scratch Ryoken’s cheek, before he crumples to the ground again.

Ryoken stands frozen. The hatred, the ire in his words are more palpable than any blow.

Something clicks in his brain.

“You…” Ryoken steps towards the wolfman. Black spots appear in his vision. He bends down-- falls to his knees--in front of Takeru, searching his gaze.

Something shifts, in Ryoken’s expression, eyebrows knitting together.

 _A wolfman._

He reaches for him.

“...Could you be one of my father’s...vic...tims…?”

Ryoken's hand drops, his head lolls to the side. 

Right. 

Bleeding.

From several places.

“--Oy!”

His cheek hitting the grass is the last thing he feels. The black spots spread until his vision its nothing more than an inky sea, swallowing everything.

* * *

Ryoken's body burns up, scorching hot, like the flames of the pyre. His wound must have got infected; his mind is prisoner to fever induced dreams. 

Are they dreams, or his new reality?

Perhaps he died, bled out to death, and now he’s trapped in Hell with Father. Father who asks, over and over, why he turned his back on him. Father, and those screams, those eyes pleading for it to stop. Walls stained red. Children crying. The blade of the knife glinting in the moonlight. A river, ears stuffed with water, drowning every sound.

If he’d died then, it would have been a merciful end. 

It’s only fitting Ryoken’s punishment would be to replay that time over and over. Hell is not kind, not with sinners, not with people like him. 

However there’s fleeting moments when he awakens from that endless replay of events. Someone tending to him, giving him water to drink. 

“Don’t fucking die, asshole.”

 _Rude_. 

But they’re gentle, too. They press something cool to his forehead now and then.

Ryoken doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve the mercy of the river, but the relentlessness of the fire. 

After an undetermined amount of time, Ryoken wakes up from the nightmare.

The sound of birds chirping somewhere in the distance reaches his ears first, along with the sensation of _pain_. He aches all over, but he’s laying on something soft and cushioned: it’s warm, wherever he is, a faint smell of ashes wafting in the air.

When he opens his eyes, he’s met with a wooden ceiling. With slow blinks, he takes in his surroundings: he’s in a cabin of some sort, laying on a bed and covered with an embroidered blanket. There’s a desk in a corner, with his travel bag atop the chair next to it. A bedside table, to his left, has a half empty glass of water. To his right, a window, and with the top of trees peeking out in the distance and the blue sky beyond.

He runs a hand down his arm and chest, to his side: his wounds are dressed.

He’s alive. _Somehow_.

When he tries to sit up, he falls back down holding his side.

_Great._

“You’re _finally_ awake.”

Ryoken lifts his head. Takeru is leaning against the door frame opposite the bed, scowling at him. He’s wearing clothes this time (modesty?) and his ears are slightly downturned. Wary. 

“...You?” Ryoken clears his throat, voice scratchy from disuse. “ _You_ helped me?”

“I considered leaving you to die,” Takeru replied. “But you have answers I want, so I brought you here.”

“...I see.” His encounter with Takeru is starting to come back to him in more detail. 

_You ruined my life_. 

Ryoken observes him. He’d read about creatures like him: not fully human, able to turn into animals and retaining some of their physical characteristics; enhanced strength and senses; magical abilities, in some cases. It's a rarity to meet one, these days.

A beat or so passes before Ryoken arches an eyebrow at Takeru, who has yet to move.

“Well? Will you stay rooted where you are or come in and ask your questions?”

“I can’t stand being near you,” Takeru scrunches up his nose. “You reek of magic. And like _that man_.”

“You said that, the other night,” Ryoken says. “Care to elaborate? And would you at least sit? I am tired of lifting my head to look at you.”

Takeru grabs the chair by the desk--tossing Ryoken’s bag to the floor--and sets it a few meters from the bed. He straddles it, leaning against the back of it. He stares at Ryoken like he’s a prey he wants to dismember. 

“Your scent is similar to the _witch_ that killed my parents,” Takeru’s claws dig into the wood, ears pushed back. “Fifteen years ago.”

 _Ah_. That’s more than enough confirmation. 

“So you attacked me, believing me to be that man.” 

“I was sure you were him. But I smell something different on you, now,” Takeru says. “So who are you and what the fuck are you doing here? Why were you being chased?”

Ryoken intertwines his hands over his stomach.

“My name is Ryoken Kogami. I am...the son of that witch. Kiyoshi Kogami.”

The reaction is immediate: Takeru shoots up.

“I fucking knew it. You _are_ related to him--”

“However,” Ryoken raises a hand. “I did not come to this forest to finish any job. Those villagers were after me because I, too, possess magical abilities and they recognized me as his son. It was pure coincidence…” He gives Takeru a cursory look. “...or perhaps fate, that brought me here.”

Takeru snorts.

“As if I’d believe that. Where’s your father, now?” He kicks the chair to the side. “You’re going to take me to him.”

 _So impatient_. 

Ryoken shakes his head, closing his eyes.

He’s been awake for mere moments and his head is already pounding. One wrong answer, and Takeru would surely fall into a rage. 

“I am afraid that is not possible,” He says. He opens his eyes. “My father is dead. He was executed fifteen years ago.”

Takeru freezes in place.

“...Executed?”

“Correct.” Ryoken lifts himself on his forearm and manages to sit up this time with a groan. He leans against the headboard, staring at his lap. 

It’s a story that has reached towns much, much further than his home village. Everyone knows who Kogami was. No one asked for an explanation before.

His tone stays even.

“My father was a powerful witch, but he had been well respected in our village for the medicine he provided. He experimented in secret with plants, animals and with time...humans. It was a gruesome thing.” He says. “Once the villagers found out the nature of these experiments, they broke into our home and took him away. He was burned at the stake.”

He glances up at Takeru, but he remains unmoving. Ryoken continues.

“Because I was his son, they were going to execute me, as well. My father’s assistants took me away and I have been running ever since, trying to locate my father’s victims. Like you,” He rubs the glove covering his right hand. “To try and fix what he broke.”

Those were the wrong words. Takeru crosses the remaining distance between him and the bed. He’s all up in his face.

“ _Fix_? You think you can fucking fix--How?” He scoffs. “You can’t bring back the dead. You can’t just erase what your father did to me. You can’t _fix it._ ” 

The words cut deep.

 _I know_.

“What you _can_ do--” Takeru points at his neck. “--is undo this stupid binding pact. And then leave me the fuck alone.”

Ryoken watches him for a long moment before smirking.

“Will you try to kill me once you’re free?”

“...”

“...If you’d let me die,” Ryoken says. “You would already be free.”

Takeru’s eyes widen.

“Wha--”

“But then,” Ryoken shakes his head, shrugging. “you probably would have followed me to the grave due to the pact.”

“Tch. Asshole,” Takeru’s tail swishes behind him with annoyance. “Just undo it.”

Every self-preservation instinct in him _should_ say _not_ to do it: Takeru could very easily end his life. But Ryoken had never planned to subject him to a pact long term.

“Very well.”

Light gathers at his fingertips and he brings them in front of Takeru, whose shoulders rise. Ryoken frowns, a small bead of sweat gathering at his brow.

There’s a slight but very important problem.

One tiny, little fact he overlooked.

“...” His sight starts to blur so he lowers his hand with a sigh. “I can’t.”

“Huh?” Takeru blinks and--“What do you mean you can’t?!”

Ryoken rests against the headboard, holding his head.

“For one, I am exhausted. And two I...I did not practice this spell a lot. I never expected to have to use it. So I cannot quite remember how to undo it now.”

It was the last spell Kyoko had taught him. Shortly before she was caught. She’d wanted him to be able to keep familiars to protect himself, so part of it is etched into his memory. The rest, however...

“Fucking great. Now what?” Takeru says. “‘Cause I’m not going to be stuck with you forever.”

“If you would be a little more _patient_ ,” Ryoken replies. “I’ll figure it out and then get out of your hair. I cannot do it as I am now. Being wounded and performing the spell depleted my energy.”

“ _Right_. Wow,” Takeru turns to go. “For the son of some powerful witch, you’re pretty fucking pathetic.”

Now _that's_ his pride on the line. Last straw. 

He holds out his hand and grasps the thin thread of light connecting to Takeru’s collar. With a sharp tug, Takeru squeaks as he’s held back.

“Wha--” He turns his glare on Ryoken. “ _What the fuck are you doing_.”

“If I wanted,” Ryoken says. “I could have you at my every beck and call right now. Do not forget you are bound to _me_.”

“Hah, so what, you can _kill me_? Is that it?” Takeru’s fangs peek out when he grins. “How’re you gonna survive? Even now, you’re struggling.”

Of course, Ryoken is straining himself. But Takeru’s attitude makes something in him seethe.

“I won’t kill you. But I would rather not have to force you to do anything. Because I could.” He tugs and he comes nose to nose with Takeru, breath fanning his face. 

“One word from me and I would have you on your knees,” It’s easy to play this part when Takeru holds no sympathy for him. He smiles, mockery sweet. “So _keep me alive_ and I will free you in time, _puppy_.”

Takeru fights against the boundary, as though trying to snap a rope.

“ _Of course_ ,” He says and Ryoken hold wavers. “No wonder you’re his _son_. Your claims of wanting to fix his mess are a fucking lie.” Takeru’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist, hard enough to bruise. Ryoken loses his grip and gasps as if slapped. Takeru shouldn’t be able to do that.

“You only care about saving _your_ sorry ass.”

“ _Let go of me_.” Ryoken grits out the order and Takeru releases him as the collar tightens. They stand locked in a stare-down. Ryoken's out of breath. 

“...You’re right,” He says. “I am his son. I won’t claim to be better than him.” Ryoken never believed himself to be good. “But I do not tell lies. I _will_ free you. And...If I cannot heal your aching, I will go. Nothing more to it.”

Takeru stares at him a moment longer before huffing and turning around to go.

“Fine. But don’t think for a minute that I trust you.”

With those words he slams the door shut. Ryoken finally lays down and closes his eyes.

It’s going to be a long, long recovery.

* * *

For some time, Ryoken’s movement is limited. He spends most of it sleeping or awakening for meals: Takeru usually leaves something by his bedside while he's asleep which, despite everything, is actually considerate of him. It’s the bare minimum to keep him alive.

But he’s far from cooperative in answering Ryoken’s questions.

“Do you live alone here?” He asks, one day. Takeru had brought him fresh bandages per request.

“What does it look like?” Takeru’s leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed.

“How long?” He starts to re-wrap his injuries.

“None of your business.” 

That’s fair. 

Ryoken doesn’t keep pushing. Which still manages to tick Takeru off.

“Why don’t you just _make me_ answer if you want to know so badly?” 

“I could,” He says. “But I won’t. It would be unfair.”

“Now you think about what’s fair? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Would you rather I _do_ order you around?” Ryoken grins. “Takeru,” He holds out his hand. “Paw.”

It’s instantaneous: Takeru walks up to him and presses his palm atop his. It’s soft, but dangerous, the claws on his fingers sharp and honed.

“Good boy.”

In a blink Takeru is slapping his hand and fuming.

“Quit messing with me!” The way his ears go up and his face reddens is kind of cute. “Ugh. I hate you,” His eyes fix on the bandages. “And you can’t even tend to yourself right.”

Ryoken glances down at himself. It's a decent job by his standards.

“Then do it for me. _Takeru_.”

Through clenched teeth, he does.

“I still don’t get how you learned my name. You knew it, that day.” Takeru _tightens_ the bandages around his middle.

“Tch,” Ryoken bats his hands away. “It appeared on my mind, when we came into contact.”

“You can _do_ that?” 

“To forge a bond, one must know a being's true name. It isn't necessarily the name you call yourself.” Ryoken explains. “In this case, it would seem the name ‘ _Takeru’_ is the one etched into your heart. Is that what everyone calls you?”

“No one’s really called me anything in years. ” Takeru admits, inadvertently replying to Ryoken’s earlier question. He seems to realize because he backs off. “Don’t trick me into being honest with you.”

“Not a trick,” Ryoken lays against the pillows, smug. “You told me all on your own.”

Bit by bit, Ryoken is able to get out of bed and step outside. A breeze ruffles the greenery and carries the scent of flowers, a few swaying at the base of trees. Birds nest atop branches and small animals hide behind bushes. The forest breathes with life in every corner.

Woods and forests have always been the best hiding places while he waited for his pursuers to give up. 

The moment he walks further away from the cabin, there's a shout behind him.

“Hey! Quit pulling me along!”

Takeru is a fair distance away but his voice carries across.

“What do you mean?” He calls back.

“It’s this stupid binding thing! If you go too far it starts to drag me too!”

Ryoken smirks. 

“Well, you should never stray too far from your master!”

“Fuck you! Can’t you do something?!”

Ryoken taps his chin. Establishing _rules…_

“Let us try something. Takeru!” He orders, lifting up a finger. “Stay within one feet of me!”

As though being led with an invisible rope, Takeru is yanked forwards with a yelp. He staggers to a stop--a feet in front of Ryoken.

“...What the hell--” He stomps the ground. “--you made it worse!”

Ryoken chuckles behind a hand.

“Ah, this is _so_ fun.”

“For you, asshole!”

“Relax, puppy.” He clears his throat. Making the wolfman even more annoyed with him won’t do either of them good. “Takeru. I order you to be able to roam freely within this forest.”

Nothing seems to happen. Ryoken waves a hand.

“Go on. Try to run off.”

Takeru takes a few steps back. Then a couple more and, seeing as nothing is holding him back, he jumps between some bushes, disappearing into the forest. 

_Hopefully he_ _will_ _come back_.

Ryoken’s body doesn’t let him go much further but as days turn to a week and more, he starts getting out and exploring his surroundings. Behind the cabin, there’s an area of tilled, planted soil. Why a wolfman would need to keep his own vegetables is beyond Ryoken. Takeru is often off hunting (or staying away from Ryoken), so he has other sources of food. 

Still, the fresh smell of spring isn’t the only thing in the air. He scrunches up his nose as he takes a whiff at himself. He _stinks_. Maybe that’s the real reason Takeru doesn’t like getting too close.

On one of his walks, he thought he’d heard running water nearby. Takeru isn’t around to ask so he dares venture further into the forest.

Most small creatures he encounters run away as soon as he’s too close, or when his boots crack twigs on the ground. There's a sturdy enough branch on the ground and he uses it to help him the rest of the way.

The trees part into a clearing, grass transforming into more rocky, uneven ground. A waterfall by the side of a cliff descends into a pool of water that glistens under the sunlight. Fishes swim around, slipping between stones and following the stream that continues further down below.

Ryoken leans against a rock and begins undressing himself: boots, pants, struggles a moment with his turtleneck shirt as it pulls at his injuries. He doesn’t bother with his gloves. 

Once naked, he helps himself with the stick to the edge of the pool. He tests the water with his toe: freezing. But days of travel and bedrest are on his skin and hair, so he’ll take what he can get.

He lowers himself into the pool and shudders.

 _Bear it._

Taking a deep breath, he pinches his nose and dives his head under to wash his hair. Right about now he misses the hot water and scented oils of inns. It's a luxury he couldn’t always afford.

Ryoken rises for air with a gasp and leans against the border. The water reaches up to his chest here, so he can sit comfortably. His bandages are getting wet but it's like a cold compress against his injuries.

The waterfall deafens any other sound and Ryoken simply listens to it for a moment. It’d been nothing but days and days of skipping towns. Running, hiding, never stopping for too long, always sleeping with an eye open and a knife under his pillow. 

Even now, he can’t lower his guard too much--but the only presences nearby are that of insects and the occasional animal. Fishes swimming past him. It’s jarringly soothing.

Lifting a hand, he traces the surface of the water with a finger and draws lazy patterns. His pad lights up and rivulets of water dance in the air along with the movement of his hand. Like a small dragon or serpent.

He smiles a little. Not every day could he fool around like this. Little, innocent tricks that he knows by heart, yet the mere sight of them is enough to have a horde of people pointing pitchforks at him.

With another upward motion, he follows the serpent as it coils around the air. He joins the pads of his fingers. The liquid contains into an orb—and he spreads his hand open, droplets bursting in every direction. 

It’s then that he realizes he’s being observed. His eyes catch on a figure atop the hill. 

Takeru’s crouching and watching him with an intent gaze. As soon as their eyes meet though, Takeru jumps to attention.

“Spying on me while I bathe?” Ryoken says. “I was not aware you were a pervert.”

“As if I care about seeing you naked!” Even from here, Ryoken sees his ears twitch and his tail fluff up. “I’m just checking you’re not up to anything funny. Have to make sure you’ll keep your word.”

“Relax,” Ryoken splashes more water in his hair and cards his fingers through it. “I’m not planning on running away. I cannot, as I am now, even if I wanted to.”

His skin is starting to numb from the cold so he pulls himself up--only to clutch his side. The slash on his arm protests, too. 

“You’re going to open your wounds.” Takeru, at some point, came down from the cliff and is now standing on the opposite side of the river, watching him struggle.

“I’m fine.” With a second attempt he manages to push himself onto the edge of the pool. He shivers but the sun heats him up.

“How did you even get that cut on your side?” Takeru asks. “It’s pretty deep. I’m surprised you didn’t bleed out to death from it alone.”

“Spear,” Ryoken says. “They got the drop on me and managed a rather clean stab, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Should have aimed for your throat.” 

“Ah, but I thought you wanted to do the honors,” He runs a hand down the column of his neck. Takeru follows the movement. “I felt how much you wanted to sink your teeth and end my life.”

“The man I really wanted to kill is dead. You’d be a pity price.”

“So you would no longer kill me?”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

In a flash, Takeru is hovering over him, claws just inches from Ryoken's neck. Eyes dark, teeth drawn back.

“I still could rip your throat, _witch_.”

If it were not for the collar of light, Ryoken might already be a bloody corpse, the river carrying his remains. He's not intimidated by Takeru's display.

“Even if you were to succeed,” Ryoken says, tilting his head and staring Takeru down. “I’d just drag you along with me.”

They remain at a stand still--until Ryoken can’t fight it anymore and he sneezes. Takeru recoils, walking around him.

“Tch! Gross.”

Something hits the back of his head. He grabs it: his shirt.

“Get dressed, stupid.”

“Concerned I’ll catch a cold?” Ryoken slips the shirt over his head.

“I don’t want to nurse your ass back to health again.”

Ryoken grabs the wooden stick he left by the water’s edge and pulls himself back to his feet. Takeru peeks at him for a second before he turns away.

“If you are so worried, how about carrying me all the way back?” Ryoken teases, fetching his pants and boots. 

“Is that an order?” 

“Not really.”

“Then drag yourself back to the cabin.” With that, Takeru jumps back into the forest. Ryoken sighs, finishes dressing up and starts the trek back.

* * *

The first time Takeru catches him trying to do magic indoors, he almost throws a bowl of food at his head. 

“ _Keep that shit away from me_.” 

Takeru, who must have experienced it first hand, would of course want to stay away from a witch performing magic. So Ryoken grabs his spell books from his bag and goes outside. He still needs a stick to help him move around so he doesn’t go far: a clearing just far enough that the cabin is out of sight.

He sits by the shade and opens a book on his lap. In one of these there has to be something about binding spells. _Anything_.

Despite his apprehension, Takeru never seems to be too far. A grey and red blur dashes between trees now and then, or Ryoken feels eyes on him. Takeru’s, observing him, but not always.

Someone is keeping watch on the forest. On him.

“Takeru.”

Ryoken calls him over. The bushes rustle as Takeru emerges, shoulders hunched.

“What do you _want._ ”

“I found a spell that could work. To undo this binding.” Ryoken pats the grass in front of him. “Sit for a moment.”

Tension and distrust ooze out of Takeru as he crouches in front of him: his feet and hands dig into the ground.

Ryoken skims the page he was on before placing the book aside. He readies himself and starts to mutter the words he’d memorized. His palms start to glow and he reaches over towards Takeru--

Takeru jumps back at least a meter. Eyes wide, ears pressed flat against his head.

“...I cannot do this if you run from me.” Ryoken says.

“How do I know you won’t try anything funny?”

“If I wanted to kill you, I already would have. Have we not established this before? That is not my intention here.” He holds out his hand. “Now, would you come over here?”

Takeru remains unmoving, alert. It tests Ryoken patience, but he understands why Takeru is so hesitant. Why he fears coming into touch with him. 

“I will not hurt you,” He says, more gently, maintaining eye contact. “I promise, Takeru.”

Takeru scrutinizes him, ears lifting a little. He crawls on all fours and goes back to his original spot in front of Ryoken. He’s still rigid.

“I’ll nod before I touch you.” Ryoken says.

He tries again, nodding his head and resting his hands around the collar of light. There’s a beat of silence where nothing happens. Then another. Ryoken sighs, drawing back.

“Not this one.” 

Takeru sags, either from relief at having his hands off him or disappointment that it didn’t work.

“I have not had a lot of time to practice magic while running, as you can imagine.” Ryoken clicks his tongue and cups his chin. He grabs his spellbook again. What did he do wrong?

After a couple of seconds, Takeru hasn’t gone away. When he lifts Ryoken gaze, Takeru is watching him read. Is it because he thinks Ryoken would do something bad any minute or...is he curious?

“...I thought you couldn’t stand being near me.”

Takeru jumps. He huffs, standing up.

“Yeah. I don’t.”

He leaves. Ryoken blinks after him before resuming reading.

However the next day, without having to call him, Takeru comes over and dumps a bunch of books beside him.

“I had these around. See if they are any good.”

Ryoken picks one up. They are also spell books, older than the ones he has. The paper is yellow from age.

“Why did you have these?”

“They were my Grandparents. Probably.”

Ryoken looks up, waiting for Takeru to elaborate. He hunches his shoulders, ears flopping.

“That cabin was theirs. They took me in when my parents…”

“Oh.” Pause. “So you did not always live here?”

“No. We used to live among people...” Takeru stops. “Why am I telling you things? Just figure out how to break this stupid spell.”

He leaves, once more. He’d said it’s been years since anyone called him anything.

So how long has Takeru lived here on his own?

As his strength and energy return, Ryoken uses the time he has to practice other spells. When you live life skipping from place to place, there's much you scarcely get the chance to attempt or perfect.

His father’s knowledge had been vast. Curses, enchantments, potions. Working on living beings: taking them apart, putting them back together. Their life energy, used it for himself. He’d mostly dwelled with dark arts and forbidden things by the end of his days. 

Ryoken had performed those before, with a sick feeling in his stomach, when he was younger and with nothing to lose. All to keep himself alive. It was all he'd been taught how to do.

Now, though, it's different. The elements of nature are right there at his disposal: water, air, when he lights the pads of his fingers he can manipulate them and change their tide and path. They are gentler sources, at their core, yet equally destructive and potent should he need them to be. 

When his eyes grow tired from reading, he rises back on his feet and tries something else.

The aura around Ryoken changes, his frame lighting up. He starts small, lifting leaves off the ground with bursts of wind, trying to keep them hovering. He’s always been best at small trickery like this, hoping to show the kids of his home village to impress them, when he was younger and naive. It would work in fooling his pursuers, later, diverting their attention. 

The spring breeze is calm and let him create stronger gusts as he arches his arms into wider gestures. Air is invisible but Ryoken feels the strain of moving it, of trying to mold it. Now and then he directs it downwards, to propel himself but doesn't manage even an inch. Not enough, yet.

The moment he stops, the leaves and bits of grass that’d fluttered up sway down, falling all around him and atop his head. He breathes in and out, both renewed and tired. The energy within him has long since begged to be freed; his body, however, begs him to rest.

“...You know, for someone who doesn’t stand my mere presence,” Ryoken speaks up. He's had company for a while. “you sure watch me a lot.”

From the bushes, Takeru’s grey and red wolf form emerges with something dead in his mouth. His fur is wet.

“Were you out hunting?”

Takeru looks at him. Then runs off with his prey. _Dinner?_

Ryoken pats his hair and clothes down. He walks over to where he’d left the spell books, and picks up from his bookmark. So far his own haven’t been helpful, so he’s trying with the ones Takeru lent him.

It’s a few minutes before Takeru comes back. He doesn’t grace Ryoken with another look but he does curl up on a patch of sun not too far away to dry. The light makes the red accents on his fur seem more vibrant and the grey brighter. It’s like Takeru is drawing energy from the day star.

One of Takeru’s eyes opens. _What?_ , he seems to say.

Ryoken returns to his book and decides not to disturb whatever this is. It’s probably just Takeru keeping tabs on him.

Some days, Ryoken goes on walks after he’s bathed in the river too. The forest is large and the further he goes from the riverside and Takeru’s cabin, the denser the trees get, growing more closely together. There’s still enough room to walk.

What strikes Ryoken the most is that there’s whispers of magic here, too: in the atmosphere, in the creatures he sees slithering up branches or hiding in holes in the ground. Most of the trees feel ancient: vines thick and deeply rooted in the dirt, leaves and branches stretching up so far they almost cover the sky. It’s darker in these parts and Ryoken is careful where he steps. 

What comes as a surprise is to bump into a pair of wolves. After growing used to Takeru’s larger frame, these look smaller, fur a darker grey than Takeru. Ryoken steps back--he could be invading their hunting territory--but they remain calm. They sniff the air and move closer to him. Ryoken stills, letting them smell his clothes. 

Whatever they find satisfies them enough that they simply...walk away. It leaves Ryoken very confused. So he asks Takeru about it, later.

“Are they relatives of yours?”

Takeru snorts from his perch on a low branch on the tree Ryoken leans against. 

“I probably know them, but I’m not related to every wolf in the world, y’know. And who you saw is just a common wolf. It’s different.”

“Different?” Ryoken fiddles with the edge of a page. Now that he thinks about it… “I have never encountered someone like you, before. Part animal, part human. Do you hold no relation to a wolf?”

“It’s like…” Takeru trails off. “There _is_. But by this point down the line, we are two different beings altogether.”

“Care to elaborate?” It goes ignored. “ _Takeru._ ”

“God you're annoying,” Takeru hops down from his perch with a huff. He crouches on the ground by Ryoken. On a spot with less grass, he starts to doodle with the point of his claw.

“There’s a few theories...or myths,” Takeru draws a stick man and a furry looking creature (a wolf?) next to each other, with a circle above them. “One of the oldest is that a wolf bit a human and it gave him the ability to transform into one every once a full moon. From there, across generations, beings like me came to be where we don’t need an external source to let us transform. We just are like this.” 

“Interesting,” Ryoken cups his chin. He'd heard something about that too. Rumors of people turning into beasts and destroying their towns.

“Then, there’s another theory, with different branches…” This time, Takeru draws two stick men, one with waves and another with swirls around it. Ryoken points at those before he can continue.

“What is that?”

“Magical beings. Probably Elementals or witches,” He taps the swirls. “This is their magic. ‘Cause it reeks out of you.”

“ _Charming._ ” Ryoken rolls his eyes. “Continue.”

“So,” He makes curvy lines up to the drawing of the wolf. “Either a wolf was enchanted, or a person was cursed to transform into a werewolf, thus passing it onto the next generations. Or...” An arrow pointing down from the stick people to another wolf. “This magical being transformed into a wolf and they had offspring with one. Thus giving transformation magic to their children.”

“...” Ryoken stares at the rudimentary drawings for a long, _long beat_. He looks up, with a little humor in his voice. “Are you implying a human _could_ have had _sex_ with a wolf?”

Takeru makes a Face.

“It’s just a _myth_! This had to happen hundreds of years ago. Magical beings aren't necessarily human witches either,” He drags his claws over the doodles to erase them. “Though I bet you're all a bunch of weirdos.”

“Harsh judgment coming from someone whose ancestors _could_ have been witches.”

“Yeah, well, there’s _another_ version,” Takeru's finger traces over a bigger shape in the dirt. Another wolf, with a halo? Crown? “It was _wolves_ that were blessed with magic by some kind of _deity._ Thus _they_ learned to transform into humans to live among them and magic transferred that way.” His grin is smug. “How about that? Maybe _your_ magic comes from a wolf--”

“--having sex with a human.” Ryoken finishes and Takeru throws dirt at him.

“Is that _all_ you got from these stories?!”

“It seems like it flusters you and that is amusing to me,” Ryoken says, his turn to smirk. “But no, I found them rather fascinating. I had never heard these tales before, nor read them in the books I owned.”

Ryoken examines Takeru with interest. Under his gaze, Takeru stands to alert.

“Would you consider yourself more of a wolf than a person, then? Or more human?”

Takeru’s ears move up and down as he muses the question.

“I dunno.” He says. “I’m _this_. Both…” He glances at his hands. “Neither.”

Takeru’s gaze is shadowed by his hair. He falls into a contemplative silence--has Ryoken stepped into a sensitive topic?

“And you? What are you?” Takeru bounces back. “Human, or just a _witch_?” 

“...Physically speaking, I am human. I get sick and hurt as much as they do.” He raises his left hand, a speck of light at the tip of his index finger. “Yet, I possess magic. It is part of me. In people’s eyes, I am not one of them. I am a monster, because they are afraid of what I could do. My perception of myself...I no longer know what I am.” 

_Oh_. His smile is rueful when he looks at Takeru, finding him looking back.

“I too am both...and neither, perhaps.”

Something passes between them. Something they can both understand. 

_What was your life like before?_

_Were you called a monster, too?_

The moment is too fragile to risk tainting it with questions. 

Takeru breaks eye contact first. Not another word is said. Takeru rises to his feet and Ryoken observes his back as he retreats.

* * *

Whoever is keeping watch on the forest conceals their presence whenever Takeru is nearby. They haven’t made a move yet--they must be waiting for Ryoken to be on his own. Perhaps they are cautious of Takeru and thus remain watchful.

Ryoken doesn’t sense them around today when he calls Takeru over. He’s in his wolf form again, still managing to look displeased.

Big and powerful as he might be, with teeth and claws sharp enough to kill and rip someone to pieces, he’s still oddly _cute_. His fur and ears look so fluffy. Would Ryoken lose a hand trying to touch them?

He shakes his head. No, _focus_. That's not the point.

“Are you able to do any magic at all?” He asks.

Takeru tilts his head. Like a big dog— _focus_.

Ryoken clears his throat, pointing at the book on his lap.

“I believe I found how we can break this binding spell in one of your Grandparents books,” He shows Takeru the page. “That light wrapped around your neck is made of magic...thus it can only be broken with magic. This is far from the formal procedure, but you could end it by force yourself.”

Takeru’s ears perk up. He puts his snout down on the page, scanning it. Then, he runs off. 

When Ryoken doesn’t immediately follow, he turns and barks at him. 

Ryoken leans against the tree to stand and goes after Takeru. They go up to a patch of sunlight with no grass on the ground. Takeru takes a stance in the middle.

_What is he about to do…?_

It happens gradually, then all at once: Takeru’s fur lights up, brighter and brighter and--he’s on _fire_. Ryoken jumps back from the wave of heat.

He stares, both startled and amazed.

_A fire wolf._

Every part of Takeru is ignited, as though he turned into the element itself. Takeru’s eyes are fully amber, pupil-less. The flames appear to have no restraint but they remain contained, licking at the dry earth. It's impressive, it's--

Pressure coils around Ryoken neck. Tighter and tighter, making him gag.

He falls to his knees, reaching for his throat but he grasps at nothing--his own collar of light is choking him. It burns, like the flames are trying to consume it.

Is this what Takeru feels every time? It’s hard to breath. Ryoken can’t swallow. 

This means it’s working. Ryoken had sensed it, when he bound them, that Takeru had something powerful within him. Now his spell is bending to Takeru’s will, to his fire. It might just break--and break Ryoken along with it.

 _Ironically fitting_.

Then, all at once, the pressure around his neck stops. 

Ryoken gasps for air, leaning on his hands and knees.

“Oy!”

Takeru crouches in front of him, pushing his shoulders back. Ryoken closes and opens his eyes so he can re-focus on his features. Back to being a pissed, naked wolfman.

“What the _fuck_ was that?! I thought you said this would work!”

“I…” Ryoken wheezes, swallows a couple of times. “I thought you...could break it by force and that would be it. And it _was_ working. My spell was bending to your will.” He says. “Why did you stop?”

“Why--you suddenly fell over!”

“And?” Ryoken cranes his head to the side and back. “You suddenly care, puppy?”

Takeru growls, his hold tightening on his shoulders. His emotions are so transparent: frown etched across his face, fangs biting his lip. Why is he so angry? Takeru lets Ryoken go and rises to his feet.

“ _Forget it_. It could have killed me too, for all I know. Figure a way out that doesn’t end with both of us dead.”

He turns on his heel and leaves Ryoken to catch his breath on the ground. 

Well. That was another failure.

* * *

After that things are slightly awkward between them. 

Or rather, _Takeru_ is being weird. He keeps stealing glances at Ryoken but the quality behind them is different than usual. Not animosity but rather...Ryoken can’t put a name to it. Like he's holding back something.

Usually, whenever Ryoken came out of his room, Takeru would already be gone somewhere. They always ate separately.

But this morning, Ryoken almost jumps out of his skin, clutching the door frame, when he finds Takeru in the hallway. Waiting for him. He approaches Ryoken, ears turned down, and brings a hand up to his neck. The way he touches the bruises the spell left on him is careful, a mere brush of his fingers.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

“Not much.”

Takeru removes his hand.

“I made breakfast. If you want it.”

Ryoken blinks after him.

This is... _new_.

Ryoken walks into the living room. Takeru is sitting on the table and eating, another plate with steaming soup opposite him. 

This is _very new_.

Does Takeru feel guilty? Is that why he’s joining him today?

Wordlessly, Ryoken sits and grabs his spoon. The silence is heavy, filled only with the sounds of eating or cutlery clinking against their bowls. 

Using this rare chance, Ryoken breaks the silence.

“So. You eat human food?”

Takeru gives him a Look. Like ‘ _What does that mean?_ ’ kind of look. 

“Do not take it the wrong way. I had expected you to eat only raw meat. Yet you farm vegetables.”

“Don’t be _stupid_ ,” Takeru slurps his soup. “I mean, I could, and I _do_ eat raw meat. But I like the taste of cooked food, too.” He munches more slowly on a piece of carrot, swallowing before he continues. “Since we lived among people before, it would have freaked them out if I came running with a dead, bloody rabbit between my teeth you know.” He stares at his plate. “...Grandma taught me how. Said even if we’re living in a forest, it’s no reason to forget manners.” A small smile. “I guess she didn’t want me to forget the more human part of me.”

This is the most Takeru has revealed about himself thus far. A softer side to him. 

Ryoken nods, unsure what to reply. 

“...It’s good.” He says, eventually. “The food I mean.”

Takeru looks up. Ryoken smiles minutely.

“I appreciate you sharing.”

Takeru perks up at that. His cheeks turn pink.

“W-Well, I wouldn’t have you starving before you _free_ me!”

He eats faster. But he’s...a little happy? He might be easier to please than it seems.

“Say--How’d you survive so long on the run?” Takeru asks. “Do you cook?”

“No,” Ryoken says. “I’d usually buy what I could while passing through villages and towns, or used what was at my disposal in the wild. Occasionally, I managed to eat and stay in Inns. Either because no one knew what I looked like in that town or by concealing my looks.”

“You have money for that?”

“Yes. Father’s subordinates left me with savings to spend. I have been using them sparingly, though.” He sips a spoonful out of his soup before continuing. “Now and then I have done a few...odd jobs to make money.”

“Like…?” Takeru narrows his eyes.

“Bounties. On people, objects, treasures…” He holds out a finger for each. “Despite how loathed witches are, not everyone who found me wanted to hand me over. Some asked for my services.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, Takeru nods his chin forwards in question.

“Potions. Hexes, curses. Among other things.” He explains. “When I was younger, I used the knowledge Father left me with to perform them. I was good at it.”

He’d been praised for it.

It all sounded so empty to his ears. There was no pride in creating more misery. 

“I thought it was what I was meant to be doing,” He stirred his soup idly. He has lost his appetite. “To be just like him.”

The silence hangs over them again. Ryoken doesn’t glance at Takeru.

 _No wonder you’re his_ _**son** _ _._

Takeru must be thinking that now, too.

He forces himself to finish the food--he’s not one to let it go to waste--before standing from the table.

“Thank you for the food.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Takeru’s eyes are trained on him. The question isn’t about the food.

“...I am not particularly proud of that time.” He replies, holding his right wrist. “There is much I’ve done that brings me shame, now. And in my blood, I carry the sins of my father, as well. All I have left is to live with that weight.”

Takeru says nothing to that. Ryoken tucks his chair in and is about to collect his books and go when Takeru pipes up.

“Before you go,” He gestures to his dirty plate. “clean after yourself.”

“Oh.” Ryoken pauses. “Of course.” 

After he’s done, and Takeru has cleaned up too, he follows him out the door. It never ceases to amaze him the fluidity with which Takeru transforms into his wolf form: one second he’s standing next to Ryoken the next he’s on all fours, reaching up to Ryoken’s waist. 

“Hunting?”

He gets a short bark of assent. 

Ryoken pats Takeru’s head--

“Have fun.”

\--and removes his hand just as quickly. Takeru’s ears shot straight up, looking at him with big yellow eyes. Ryoken’s cheeks burn.

Clearing his throat, he turns away, clutches his spell books close to his chest and goes the opposite way.

He just had to go and give in to the impulse to _pet the wolf_. He’s lucky Takeru didn't bite his hand off for that.

It’s an indefinite amount of time later that Takeru comes back from hunting. Wet, again--maybe he bathes after catching his prey.

Like before, he pads up to a patch of sun to dry but this time he picks a spot closer to Ryoken. Within arms length. And looks at him.

Ryoken holds his gaze. Is Takeru testing him after he patted his head? Is he waiting for Ryoken to do it again so he can sink his teeth in, this time?

 _No._ Ryoken is not going to. He’s a man with strong willpower. He can hold back from petting a pair of fluffy looking ears, which will surely be extra soft after they are dry…

Ryoken shoves his nose back into the book.

Focus. _Focus_.

Ryoken has regained enough strength that he doesn’t have to use a stick to move around as much anymore. His wounds have healed considerably too: the one on his side aches if he overdoes it, but he’s not in danger of it reopening. 

Before, he used to live day by day, without a fixed routine, never knowing what could surprise him. Wandering, most often aimlessly. 

Now, he’s come to have a sort of schedule: breakfast, practice, lunch, pour over books, dinner, sleep. The biggest surprises are animals jumping in front of him out of nowhere (Takeru included).

Sometimes he practices his spells far longer than his body can handle and exhausts himself. 

“...What are you doing?” Takeru peers down at him, sprawled across the grass, with his hands on his hips. The sun is low in the sky, the orange backdrop and the leaves framing Takeru’s face. 

“I...might have overdone it.” He rasps out. “I’ll be up in a moment.”

“…”

“...”

“...You can’t get up, can you?”

Ryoken closes his eyes with a sigh.

“Perhaps.”

Quiet laughter makes him open his eyes. Takeru, with a rare smile on his lips, fangs poking out. 

“You’re so useless, witch."

Ryoken scowls.

"Silence, puppy." 

"Here,” Takeru holds out his hands. “Get up.”

Ryoken hesitates, fingers twitching when they come close to Takeru’s before he grasps them. Takeru’s hold is firm. 

Ryoken wobbles on his feet and stumbles against Takeru’s chest.

“Woah,” Takeru’s hand settles between his shoulder blades. “What are you, a baby deer?”

When Ryoken lifts his head, Takeru flinches under him and looks away. 

"C-Can you walk?"

"Aw," Ryoken teases. "I thought you were going to be a nice familiar and carry me back." 

Takeru shoves him off.

"Not your familiar."

"Sure." Ryoken pats his clothes down as he passes by Takeru. 

"...You could order me to. " Takeru says. Doubtful.

"I could."

"Yet, you haven't been doing it, lately."

They walk side by side. Takeru could run but he is matching Ryoken's sluggish pace. 

Ryoken lifts a hand, so Takeru can see it, and brushes his neck, mirroring Takeru's gesture from the other day.

"I felt how much it hurts. I would rather not cause you more pain."

“Feeling considerate or trying to get on my good side?”

“Hmph,” Ryoken curls his hand back, staring up ahead. “If we are to be stuck together any longer, I thought it best we are not constantly at each other’s throat. That is all.”

Takeru says nothing to that. They arrive at the cabin in silence. 

Again, that night, they share a meal. Something that has become more and more frequent. 

_Isn’t it strange?_

_To have dinner with the son of the man that took everything from you._

If he says it, Takeru will go. 

So Ryoken doesn’t say anything.

* * *

Things have been calm. _Too calm_. Ryoken has learned to distrust such periods of time.

It’s when he’s on his own, redressing after a bath, that the first attack comes. His reaction time is a little late but he side steps fast enough that he doesn’t end up with an arrow lodged in his arm.

Two more come flying towards him and he jumps back, only to slip on a patch of wet rock. One of the arrows cuts through his right glove and his skin. It stings.

Looking up, he gets one glimpse at his aggressor: a young hooded woman with a crossbow.

“Finally decided to make your appearance?” His hands light up, offering her half a smile. “Very well.”

It’s a long distance battle: she shoots, he evades or uses the wind to blow her projectiles away. He doesn’t want to kill her, and by the way she aims at non-vital parts, she’s trying to incapacitate him. There must be a pretty penny for his head.

Just as she shoots and he blows it away, she kicks a pebble from the ground and it hits him square on the forehead. It disorients him for a moment and she rushes forwards. A blade slides out of her sleeve, going for his leg--

\--And a grey and red blur pushes her onto the ground. Takeru pins her with his claws around her shoulders, knees pressing down on her legs. By the way Takeru’s teeth are bared, he’s ready to strike.

“Takeru,” Ryoken reaches for him. “ _Don’t_ kill her.”

Takeru’s head snaps his way.

“She was going to kill _you_ , idiot--agh!”

An arrow hits Takeru’s arm, flying from somewhere above them. The woman uses that chance to shove Takeru off, grimacing as his claws detach. She rolls to grab her fallen crossbow and jumps back several steps. 

She didn’t come alone.

From the bushes emerge two other people. Both don spears.

Another arrow aims for Takeru and this time he avoids it, jumping on a rock. 

“Four on two?” He yanks the arrow from his arm, snarling. “Humans sure don’t play fair.”

“Let us take the witch,” The woman says, her crossbow trained on Takeru. Ryoken, meanwhile, has a spear pointed at him. “And no further harm will come to you.”

“Hah! No can do,” Takeru licks at his wound, eyes scanning the trees. “That witch and I have pending matters. I can’t just let you take him.”

“Then you leave us no choice,” She gestures with her head at the other two.

From there, a fight breaks out.

Ryoken is not adept in close combat. Spears require distance, but it’s not a comfortable one for him: every time he jumps back and casts, the man comes close enough again and makes a stab at him. He keeps him at bay and wraps water around his spear--but an arrow comes from his periphery and he lets go to evade.

Takeru is faring much better: he’s fast, evading shots left and right and swatting the crossbow from the woman’s hands. They’re not far from each other and Ryoken sees the moment his claws come out to strike—but he stops short at the last moment.

The hesitation is enough for the second spear to swing at him.

“Takeru--!”

“Should you be worried about that?” The man in front of him is suddenly closer, drawing his attention. He tips his spear up and Ryoken hisses as the blade slashes his right arm. The man dashes forward and pushes him to the ground. Ryoken lift his hands and grabs onto the spear, now horizontal, coming down on his neck, but he’s not strong enough; he gags as it presses down on his throat. The man’s knee digs onto his stomach and pain flares up from his not fully healed wound. 

Teeth gritted, he lets go with one hand and shoves a flash in his aggressor’s face.

It’s enough to destabilize him. Ryoken knees him on the ribs to get him off and rolls, gets upright. He’s winded, but it’s not over yet. Spear man is clutching his face, momentarily blinded. And Takeru--

There’s a gash on his shoulder, and on his side--the woman has her knife on her hand, bloody. The other spear is, too. Takeru’s movements are more sluggish, but he catches the next spear attack, grasping the shaft of it and sending the man crashing onto the woman.

Another arrow comes, aimed for Takeru, and Ryoken diverts it with wind. Following the trajectory, he sees the hooded figure armed with a bow at the top of the waterfall.

 _Perfect_. With a wrist movement, he shoots a water projectile their way. The bow cracks upon impact and makes them stumble backwards.

Ryoken can’t even goad: spear man is back with a vengeance, making him jump several steps. His back stumbles into Takeru’s. He looks over his shoulder: the other two have got back up too.

They’re surrounded.

“Hey,” He says.

“Yo,” Takeru exhales out. “Plans? ‘Cause if not, can you let me hurt them at least a little?” 

A plan. If it goes on like this, Ryoken will deplete his energy performing spells left and right—and for as sturdy as Takeru is he's already injured and will eventually tire.

When he peers back at Takeru, his fur is glowing under the sun rays. Like that day. A stroke of an idea forms in Ryoken's mind.

“Takeru. Can you set yourself on fire?”

“What--” Takeru drags them away from the fire line of the crossbow. “Why?”

“Trust me,” Ryoken says, as they lock gazes. “Just for this moment.”

“...”

Takeru clicks his tongue.

“Your plan better be fucking good.”

Takeru takes a stance. Like before, the fur across his arms, legs and head starts to light up. It makes the other three come to a stop and then scream as Takeru _burns_.

Ryoken stands as close as he can to the heat and begins to move the air around them in circular motions. The fire follows the path like a snake, wrapping around it. Faster, and faster, the wind fans the flames, spinning into a--

“Woah!” Takeru’s grinning. His eyes, wide, are fully yellow. “A fire tornado!” He curls his fists and if possible, burns even more. The wind ruffles Ryoken's clothes, and the heat is almost suffocating, being in the eye of the storm. It takes all his control to keep directing the fire outwards, to keep a firm stance on the ground.

But it's working: the force of the heatwave make the other three to step back. Their faces are a mix of horror and astonishment. They cry out as the flames lick closer to them and one of their coats catches fire.

“I would rather not have to burn you!” Ryoken calls above the storm. His gaze hardens as he fixes it on each one of them. “Leave now with your lives--” A stronger gust of wind to startle them back. “--before I change my mind.”

“.. _._ _Retreat!_ ” After one goes, the other two turn on their tails and run along. Once he can't see them anymore, Ryoken stops moving his arms and they drop at his sides, looking up. The hooded person that’d been atop the hill is gone too.

The wind calms down, leaving only a gentle breeze behind. 

Ryoken falls to his knees, breathing hard.

“Ah--”

“Holy shit, dude!” Takeru, no longer burning, is glowing in a different way. His tail, wagging behind him; ears, perked up. “What the hell! That was so cool!? A warning would have been nice but--hah!” He looks the way the other three ran. “Serves them right!”

“Haha,” Ryoken chuckles. “Yes. It was rather incredible, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah--oh shit, that tree is burning.”

It is. The ground is mostly rock but the flames had reached the trees surrounding the area. Ryoken sighs, splashes some water on the tree to put it out. He falls back on his butt and crosses his legs.

“I am exhausted.”

“Not surprised there.” Takeru flops down beside him. “Ow, ow, ow--”

Ryoken looks Takeru over. His clothes are tattered, and charred. His wounds are still bleeding. Ryoken feels a pang of guilt.

“You’re injured,” Ryoken reaches over, but Takeru bats his hand away. “Let me see.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You got hurt,” Ryoken’s voice becomes strained. “because of me. So shut up, _stay still,_ ” He pushes down on Takeru’s shoulders when he tries to move. “--and let me look you over, stupid wolf.”

Takeru’s ears drop but he lets him assess the damage. There’s the arrow wound on his arm and the cut on his shoulder; the gash on his stomach is the deepest and most concerning.

Despite Takeru’s words, his complexion is paler after so much blood loss. They won’t make it to the cabin like this. Both exhausted and hurt.

“...If you let me,” He touches the stomach wound. The skin around it is hot. “I could try to close the wounds. With magic.”

Takeru grabs his wrist.

“Have you even done that before?”

“No,” He confesses. “But I know how. Consider it me repaying the favor.”

Takeru’s ears are flat against his head. Ryoken meets his gaze head on.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“...” Takeru lets go, after what feels like an eternity. He nods. Ryoken nods back and his digits light up, tracing the edge of the stab. He recites under his breath.

Healing spells. Father had used them, too, after leaving one, or several, of his test subjects a bloody mess. Over, and over, destroying and reconstructing them until the body reached its limits. 

A small wave of nausea hits him just thinking about it and his vision looses focus. It’s why he’s not fond of them. It’s why he never uses them. The human body is not a doll to be put back together. Not like _that_. 

Takeru's hand on his wrist stops him again.

“You’re shaking.”

“No. _You_ are.” Ryoken can feel it, against his pulse point.

“Yeah,” Takeru says, hushed. “I just let you heal me. That’s twice today that I trusted you.”

“Well, let me _finish_ \--”

“It’s enough,” Takeru lowers his hand. “This is enough, Ryoken. The bleeding stopped.”

It’s the first time Takeru says his name. It snaps him out of his head. He is, indeed, shaking. 

“...Oh.”

 _Pathetic_. Even after fifteen years, it affects him.

He didn't quite finish stitching flesh back together, but it has indeed stopped bleeding. The rest will heal naturally—it's for the best.

“You’re hurt, too,” Takeru brushes his bangs back. He pokes the area with his thumb. “Haha. You got a bump.”

Ryoken elbows him.

“Shut up.”

Where Takeru touches, his skin grows warm—warmer than it already feels. He checks over his neck, which is a little bruised from the spear. Ryoken shudders when Takeru slips a hand under his shirt and pats the tender tissue on his side.

“Hm. Doesn’t seem like it opened…”

Takeru’s touch is gentle. It’s making something flutter in his stomach.

“And your arm--” Takeru lifts it. Not deep, the cut goes from his forearm to about his wrist.

That’s when Ryoken realizes. His right glove got torn in the skirmish. It’s not covering--

Ryoken snatches it out of Takeru’s grip and clutches it with his left.

“It’s fine. It’s a scratch.”

But Takeru’s eyes are fixed on it.

“That’s _not_ a scratch.”

On the back of Ryoken’s hand, under his index and beside his thumb, there’s a mark. 

A red triangle, conformed of smaller ones, from which vine-like lines stretch out. They coil around his wrist, and up his forearm, below his elbow. They are tightly latched onto his skin.

Ryoken unties the cord on his left glove and quickly covers his right with it.

“...It is not recent. It has been like this for years,” He says. “And It does not concern you.”

After a beat or two, Takeru huffs.

“Fine.”

Then he slings Ryoken’s good arm over his shoulder and pulls him up with him. Ryoken falls against his side.

“What are you--”

“We’re both fucking tired,” Takeru says, settling his arm over his back. “So c’mon.”

It’s an effort to drag themselves forward. Ryoken tries not to lean all his weight on Takeru, and instead pushes Takeru on him. They almost topple to the side.

“You can’t support me, idiot, you got baby deer legs again!”

“You are hurt. I cannot use you as a rest post.”

“I have way more resistance than you--”

In the midst of their bickering, they keep swinging from one side to the other, eventually growing resigned and simply leaning on each other. It’s strange to find the forest unperturbed, after that fight, with only the crunching of grass and dirt under their feet 

“...We were pretty kickass back there, weren’t we?” Takeru says. 

“I could have fared alright on my own.”

“ _Lies_. You would have got captured, idiot.”

“How did you--” Ryoken grunts as he trips over a vine. Takeru pulls him upright. “--get there so fast, though. I did not call for you.”

“I sensed you. Ever since you bound us...” Takeru scratches his cheek. “Uh, I can’t explain it, it was like something told me you were in danger and kept pulling me that way. Binding pact things I guess.”

One corner of Ryoken’s mouth curls up.

“Good familiar.”

“Not your familiar!”

“Sure.”

Takeru grumbles under his breath but otherwise they don't speak until they arrive back at the cabin. Tiredness is pulling at both of them as they make it through the entrance.

“Let me clean the rest of your wounds,” Ryoken says.

“You’re about to topple over. I’ll take care of it--”

“I can do it while sitting,” Ryoken pushes him onward. “Come on. Where do you keep the bandages?”

“That cabinet. There’s ointments and other stuff there too.”

Takeru seems...subdued. He plops down on a chair without further protest while Ryoken retrieves what he’ll need: a bowl of water from the kitchen, bandages, ointment and a cloth. He lifts up a bottle with clear liquid from the cabinet.

“Is this…” He takes a sniff. “Ah. Herbal medicine?”

“Yup. Grandma used to make it, she taught me.” Takeru says. “It’s thanks to that that you didn’t die of an infection.”

“Hmph. I suppose I owe her a thank you, as well, then.”

He brings everything over and sits across Takeru. 

“Shirt off.” Or, well, what remains of it.

Takeru pulls it over his head and tosses it to the floor. It’s not the first Ryoken has seen him naked (counting the day they met), but it’s the first time he notices the scars. Some more faded than others, cuts that healed poorly. There’s a story itched there. Ryoken wears a similar one on his skin.

He dabs one end of the cloth in water and washes the blood surrounding the gash on Takeru’s shoulder and the one on his arm. The fire doesn't seem to have had any effect on them, though the fur around the latter got stained with blood. He uses the herbal medicine, next, to disinfect them. Takeru flinches minutely but otherwise doesn’t react. 

He’s observing him while Ryoken wraps his wounds, snugly but not too tight. Their knees bump when Ryoken leans forward to tie the bandages for the shoulder.

“Have I done it right?” He asks, a little mirth to his voice. “Or are my bandaging skills not on par with yours yet?”

Takeru snorts. 

“It’s alright.”

Takeru’s features look softer, perhaps out of weariness, when Ryoken glances up. At their eyes meeting, Takeru looks away. His ears are relaxed.

“Um. Thanks,” He says. After a pause, he takes the ointment from the table. “Lift your shirt.”

“It’s not--”

“You did it for me. _Let me._ ”

Ryoken abides. He lifts the side of his shirt: while the injury hadn’t opened, the skin is irritated. Takeru rubs some cool ointment on it.

Takeru takes his right hand next and Ryoken’s first instinct is to draw it back.

“...I let you heal me.” Takeru says, out of the blue. 

“And?”

“You told me to trust you. And I did,” He looks up. “Trust me, too.”

“It is not as if mutual trust is required between us. You can choose not to trust me again. Once I break our pact,” He says. “we will be nothing more than strangers once more.”

“We’re not,” Takeru shoots back. Animated, stubborn. “We’re not strangers. We’ll never be. From the moment you walked into this forest, you were _someone_.” 

Reeking of magic. Like the man that ruined Takeru’s life. That’s the kind of someone Ryoken is.

“I’m trying to decide,” Takeru continues, with less bite but no less firm. “What kind of someone you are _now_. I don’t need the story,” He holds out his hand. “Just let me check the cut on your arm.”

Outside, the leaves of the trees are a vibrant green, signaling the eventual come of summer. 

It’s going to be a season since he’s been here. Since he hasn’t been on the road. All because Takeru crashed, quite literally, into his life and Ryoken thought binding them together was a good idea to preserve his own life.

It was a selfish effort. Takeru should still be spewing threats at him. Instead, they fought together, if only for an instant, took care of each other. Takeru lent him a trust Ryoken doesn’t deserve and is asking for a crumb of it in return.

It feels like a connection Ryoken has forgotten the taste of—no, one he's scarcely known. Mutual trust.

Ryoken rolls up his sleeve and undoes the glove. The cloth falls away. The gash is red and almost loses itself among vines.

He drops his arm in Takeru’s hold. Without a word, Takeru washes the cut and applies medicine on it. Ryoken’s skin has lost sensitivity where the vines cling harder, so he can’t feel it much, or the way Takeru’s other thumb brushes his wrist. Gently. Takeru is double edged, at all times, rough and soft.

Ryoken can’t stand looking at the mark. From the last time he peered at it, the vines have grown minimally. 

“It is an old pact. With Father.” He says. “I gave my loyalty to him before he died.”

Takeru hand falters. Then, he grabs the gauze.

“I said I don’t need the story.”

“You trusted me. I got you involved in a mess that should be solely my own,” Ryoken says. “Consider this equal exchange, if you will.”

“Look. Ever since you came here, I assumed you were going to bring some trouble with you,” Takeru insists, wrapping up the cut. “And as long as we’re bound together, I have to deal with your messes, too. I’m stuck with you.”

“...You realize, that is exactly what a familiar does. You just admitted--”

“Nope, no, I didn’t _shut up_.” Takeru ties the bandage a little too tight. “There.”

Ryoken examines them: the vines peek out minimally from it. It’s a good substitute for a glove. 

“...I will admit, were it not for you,” He says. “They _would_ have overpowered me. I have always ran to preserve my life. It has been a while since I fought back.” He flashes Takeru a tiny, genuine smile. “So, thank you. You are right--we _were_ pretty amazing.”

Takeru’s ears lift up. Behind him, his tail swings a little.

“--Yeah, well!” He crosses his arms, chest puffed. “I couldn’t have them taking you away before you undo this pact!”

“And here I thought you had grown to like me.” Ryoken jokes. He stands up.

“Don’t read into it--woah,” Takeru catches him as he wobbles dangerously forwards. “Hey…”

“Apologies. I used too much energy today.” His head fell against Takeru’s chest. Even now, he radiates warmth. It makes Ryoken incredibly drowsy, eyelids fluttering. “...Do you mind if…”

“If you fall asleep on me, I’m dropping you on the carpet.”

“Sounds...nice.”

…

……

………

Ryoken wakes up with a jolt. The sky is fully dark outside the window.

And he’s on the bed. How…? 

“Oh.”

Right. He’d fallen asleep on Takeru. He doesn’t remember exactly when.

“ _Tch.”_

He does faintly remember arms carrying him while he was half conscious.

“ _Next time, I_ _**will**_ _drop you. Dumbass.”_

The word had no bite to it. 

* * *

They get respite from other attacks for a few days, at least enough to recover. Takeru spends most of that time bathing in the sun: his wounds heal at an astounding rate after that.

More people _do_ come, but after last time, they’re not a problem. Fire tornado doesn’t make a comeback--doing it in the middle of the forest would be _stupid_ \--but Ryoken’s building up stamina and better reflexes. 

After he lost his companions, there was no one to watch his back. Now Takeru is often somewhere in the corner of his eye. Fighting together isn’t always a smooth procedure (Takeru might have ended upside down, hanging from a vine, from an experiment gone wrong) but they _work_. Close and distant combat: Takeru covers his weak spots and Ryoken, his. 

Ryoken gets what Takeru said about sensing him: he senses Takeru, too. It was there, when he bound them, aware that his magic became tied to another. Now it’s more present. Even when Takeru is off hunting, far from him, Ryoken doesn’t feel as though he’s on his own.

A thread, invisible, ties them. The pact has grown stronger and that--

\--unsettles him. A little.

Ryoken has to end this soon.

What’s worse, Takeru doesn’t shy from his presence so much anymore. Keeps his distance less. And by worse it means Takeru, wolf-Takeru, parades around him with those _fluffy looking ears_ and Ryoken might _die_ if he tilts his head at him again or if his ears keeps twitching when he hears something.

Takeru definitely does it to torture him. Or Ryoken is a weaker man than he thought he was.

One day after breakfast, Takeru’s back straightens to attention and he jumps from his chair. His ears are restless, listening in on something. Even if Ryoken focuses, he can’t hear a thing, but he stays quiet.

Then Takeru dashes out the door. Ryoken hesitates for a second before he gets up and goes after him. 

“Hey!”

Takeru is a far faster runner than him and Ryoken almost loses sight of him, but Takeru doesn’t go very far. By the time Ryoken catches up, he stops in his tracks when several pairs of eyes and raised ears turn to him.

It’s a wolf pack den. 

Ryoken counts at least ten adult wolves. This time, unlike before when he encountered two, a few do push their ears forwards and take a defensive stand towards him. 

The warning is clear. One move and they'll attack.

Ryoken stays rooted where he is. The wolves are gathered in a circle, surrounding Takeru. The top of his head is easy to spot: he’s knelt down by a small lump. A whine comes from it.

“Takeru,” He says. “What happened?”

“Some bastards were hunting here. The wolves took care of ‘em,” His ears are sticking out in anger, too. “An arrow hurt a pup though. It's not looking good.”

Privately, Ryoken is impressed by how Takeru could hear the animal from a distance. At the moment though, he is more worried he’s going to get maimed if he takes a step forward.

“I could try to heal it,” Ryoken blurt out, without thinking.

Takeru looks up to him.

“...Can you?” _Are you sure?_ he seems to ask, instead.

“Yes,” Ryoken says. “If they let me get close.”

Only then does Takeru seem to realize the situation around them. He turns to a wolf in particular--the largest out of them--and says (barks?) something to it. It would be comical, were it any other situation, to see Takeru converse with the animal. 

The wolf makes a head gesture to the rest of the pack and they step back. They don’t take their eyes off of Ryoken as he risks coming near. A couple wear traces of blood in their muzzles and claws: whoever dared cross them is lamenting it in the next life by now. Ryoken can’t see any bodies around.

He kneels beside Takeru and assesses the damage to the pup: an arrow, stuck on its abdomen. The pup is small, still young, so if done carelessly they risk it bleeding out. It's breathing is weak, eyes shut in pain.

“...Very well. I will pull the arrow out,” Ryoken says, grasping the shaft. “And stitch the wound immediately after.”

At the lightest pull, the animal whines again. Takeru runs his hand over the pup’s neck to soothe it and the rest of the wolves growl in warning.

“...Just in case,” Ryoken advises. “Make sure they do not lunge at me before I’m done.”

“I got you.” Takeru flashes him a smile before turning to face the pack. The sight of his back is reassuring.

Ryoken takes a deep breath, focusing on the pup. There is no painless way to remove an arrow so he grasps it and begins to draw it out meticulously. The animal writhes and makes a high pitched noise.

Behind him, there’s the scrape of paws on the dirt and grunting. Ryoken doesn’t turn around to see what’s going on. He has the arrow: the pointed head is intact. He tosses it to the side and he sets his hands over the bloody wound. The pup stills as he chants.

That sick feeling, again. Ryokenreminds himself that _this_ isn’t _that_ , this is different. It’s nothing like when Father would perform it, with clinical, detached precision, just so he could start over when he failed. As though he was trying to be a god, resetting the flow of time, ignoring the consequences.

This creature could die. Small, afraid and barely getting a taste of life. It isn't made to be reconstructed as Ryoken pleases but if he can give it this one chance—if he can save it—then maybe this tainted magic he inherited isn't for _nothing_.

Flesh stitches back together, as though being sewn by an unseen hand. It becomes shadowed by fur and leaves only a bloodstain.

“...” Ryoken breathes out and the glow around him dims. “It is done.”

The pup doesn't move, its eyes scrunched shut. But its chest rises and falls steadily until it slowly opens its eyes. It stretches its neck to sniff at the freshly healed wound, ears shifting upwards.

“Is the pup okay?”

When Ryoken turns, the scene that meets him is this: Takeru, his back to him, with an armful of wolves. They must have been lunging before, while others had backed down, but now they have stilled and peer over Takeru’s shoulders with interest.

Takeru puts the wolves down with a huff. He has claw marks on his arms but otherwise he’s okay. How strong is he to have held back those two wolves?

“It appears that way--” The pup has stood up, and Ryoken’s eyes widen when it nudges his hand. Tentatively, he places it atop its head and the pup barks, wagging its tail.

Whatever tension remains among the pack dissolves at that. The wolves come closer, their tails moving side to side in contentment. The pup runs to one of them, possibly its mother, and gets a nuzzle out of it.

“Nice job,” Takeru walks over. As Ryoken raises, he gives his back a slap that sends Ryoken forwards. “Looks like your magic is good for something.”

“Hah,” He glances over at the wolves gathering around the healed pup and he smiles a little, too. “...Perhaps.”

The largest wolf, from before, looks less looming when it’s nuzzling the pup with its nose. Then it throws its head back and howls, startling Ryoken. The rest of the pack joins in.

“...What is happening?”

Takeru laughs.

“They are thanking you! Or well--they’re just happy the pup is alright. It’s...It’s common for them to die, y’know.” His ears flop slightly. “Sometimes it can’t be helped. But I’m glad this time it didn’t have to come to that. So...thank you.”

The howling cuts short. The mother wolf leads the pup back inside their den. 

“No,” Ryoken slots his fingers together, staring at his hands. “It is possible those were not simple hunters, and they were here because of me. That pup did not deserve to die for getting caught in the crossfire.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault,” Takeru says. “The moment something becomes a threat to them,” His gaze falls. “they don’t care who they’re hurting.”

“A pup is hardly threatening.”

“Yeah,” Takeru turns away. “If it can’t defend itself, it’s easier for them.”

Ryoken watches Takeru leave. 

The set of Takeru’s shoulders tells a different tale every time Ryoken looks at it. With his chest puffed and his back straight he is as though a mountain, bigger than he is. Grounding, a guardian. 

But other times it’s so much smaller. Lonely. Dragged down by a past Ryoken is and isn’t a stranger too. There's so much he doesn't know.

Ryoken heads back a moment after him, deciding to give him space.

Later, though, Takeru comes back. It could be a coincidence, but the times Takeru less wants to talk is the times he's in his wolf form. Like this, even if Ryoken asked, Takeru wouldn’t answer.

Atop the open book on his lap, Takeru drops a small pouch. It’d been held close by his teeth so it falls open, a few berries rolling this and that way. Ryoken blinks down at them. 

“Is this some kind of thank you…?”

_Grooooowl._

Ryoken looks up but Takeru’s posture is relaxed, sitting on his back legs in front of him. Another growl and finally Ryoken realizes it’s his own stomach insisting, for a while now, that he’s _hungry_.

“Oh,” He tugs at his side-bangs, embarrassed. “I’d been so focused I didn’t…” He picks one red berry up. “These are safe to eat, yes?”

Takeru’s ears drop and the look he gives Ryoken seems to say _No, it’s poison, you idiot_.

Ryoken plops it into his mouth. He perks up at the sweet taste. 

“Oh. They are good.” 

Takeru huffs, _Of course_.

“Thank you,” He holds up another berry. “...Did you want any? There are a lot here.”

He takes Takeru sniffing the air as an affirmation: Ryoken tosses it to him and Takeru catches it effortlessly in his mouth. Pressing his lips together, Ryoken tosses another, a little higher this time, and Takeru rises on his hind legs to get it. Ryoken chuckles.

“Nice catch, _puppy_.”

That makes Takeru pause--and then butt his head to Ryoken’s in retaliation. His fur tickles Ryoken’s cheek and he stifles another bout of laughter.

“You make it too easy to tease you,” Ryoken shoves him off. He distractedly let his hand linger between Takeru’s ears. Takeru tilts his head up and Ryoken snaps out of it, retrieving his hand back. 

He puts another berry in his mouth. 

In the corner of his eye, Takeru is still there. Ryoken offers him a berry and, with a carefulness that amazes Ryoken, Takeru takes it between his front teeth. 

It’s in companionable silence that they eat, while Ryoken flips through the last pages of his book. He’s running out of them. Breaking a binding spell isn’t supposed to be _this_ complicated.

He hands Takeru a berry. Flips a page. Reads a line--no, not here either. Is this one going to be another failure? Scans the next page. Pats Takeru, flips a--

 _Wait_. His gaze snaps to the side.

There’d been no berries left. He’d handed Takeru nothing--instead he’s now leaning against Ryoken’s palm, eyes closed. His fur is soft, so soft, and, before he can hesitate, Ryoken runs his fingers through it. Strokes down the back of his neck and repeats. Takeru lets out a small noise of contentment.

How is this the same wolf that came close to killing him months ago? 

Ryoken has a playful remark at the tip of his tongue but he refrains from it. He continues to read, or tries to. Maybe he should stop petting Takeru, but he looks so at ease. It’s weird that he hasn’t snapped at him yet. That he’s allowing this.

Closing the book--useless, in the end--Ryoken steals another glance beside him. Takeru, at some point, came to rest his side against the tree. There’s the smallest hint of tongue peeking out of his mouth, breathing evenly. He’s…asleep. 

The sight squeezes Ryoken’s heart. Like this, even the powerful wolf looks vulnerable.

Does Takeru even realize what he’s doing? Lowering his guard around him?

Even though he’s read the book front to back, Ryoken starts from the beginning again. As an excuse, to stay like this a bit longer. To watch over Takeru while he rests.

Later, at dinner, Ryoken doesn’t miss Takeru’s flustered glare thrown his way.

“You put me under a sleeping spell.”

“Oh no, not at all,” Ryoken smirks. “But they do say a dog always sleeps best near their master…”

“I should have _bit your hand off_ when you handed me one of those berries.”

* * *

The wolf pack seems to have taken a liking to him after his service to them. Ryoken never considered himself good with animals, but it’s nice not to fear for his life at the sight of one of them. 

“I still find it odd how those wolves did not attack me, months ago, given how defensive they got.” He tells Takeru.

“That’s probably ‘cause of me.” Takeru says, munching on...Ryoken thinks it might be a small bone. “They know my scent. Probably smelt something of me on you and knew you weren’t dangerous.” He plucks the clean bone out of his mouth. “When their cub was hurt, it was another matter. They're very protective.”

“Hm. But they listened to you,” Ryoken says. “Are you their leader?”

“Nah, not in a million years.” Takeru snorts, lays down on the grass. “They got their rules and I got mine. ‘s not my place to be their leader.”

“But you care for them.”

“Hmph,” Takeru turns on his side. “They’re not a bad bunch.”

What also changed, after that day, is how close Takeru is to his space. Unless Ryoken is practicing, but he’s caught a glimmer of interest and curiosity in his eyes more than once. The one time Ryoken calls him out on it, Takeru denies it though.

“Are you even _trying_ to break this stupid spell anymore?” Takeru asks him back. “How do you even _forget_ how to?”

“It has been some time since my companion taught it to me. I was focused on learning other spells,” With two alight fingers, he makes a little water rise, twisting his hand so it dances around the air. “Diversions, cloaking, so that I could continue to hide.” 

“But don’t you write that kind of shit down? Like, the words or whatever?” Takeru follows the water as it moves, crouched on a rock. But his words make Ryoken pause. 

_Written...it down..._

“--That’s it!” Ryoken points to him--with the same hand that was manipulating the water: it splashes Takeru on the face. Takeru splutters, losing his balance and falling backwards.

Ryoken winces. 

“Ah. Apologies, in my excitement--”

Takeru jumps back up, wet and looking pissed.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!”

“Wait, wait, Takeru--” Ryoken raises his hands to appease him. “I did. I did write it down...I believe. The spell.”

Pause.

“Where?”

“In my bag, there is one more book.”

Takeru hops down from the rock--

“Wait here.”

\--and he’s off. He’s back soon, with Ryoken’s bag slung over one shoulder.

“Thank you.” Ryoken takes the bag, rummaging its contents. There’s not much: a change of clothes (washed recently), a container for water, a pouch with money, other provisions, trinkets--and the book in question. It’s small, with a faded brown cover and edges worn out, more so than the books Takeru lent him.

“That smells old.” Takeru says, sniffing the air.

“It was...Father’s.” Ryoken replies. He brushes the cover with his fingers. “Not terribly old but very much used.”

“...Oh.” Now Takeru eyes the object with distrust. “You’re not going to--”

“Don’t worry,” Ryoken mutters, skimming through the pages. “It had blank pages at the end so I used it, for a time.” He stops almost at the end. “Here.”

The handwriting is Kyoko’s, neater than Father’s ever was. After her death, Ryoken buried this book deep in his bag and rarely consulted it anymore.

It isn’t as though she was free of sin and mistakes but after Mother died, she’d been the closest to one. More of an older sister, looking after him. Like his other two companions, her face and her voice grow weaker in his memory every day. 

Ryoken shakes his head, reading what is written. There’s the first part of the binding and the words to break it thereafter. 

“It was here all along,” Ryoken closes the book and puts it down by the bag. “Well--apologies for dragging this out more than necessary.”

“Are you sure you weren’t just _hiding_ it from me?” Takeru doesn’t sound as annoyed as he looks.

“Perhaps I just wanted to keep you bound to me a little longer for fun.” Ryoken says back, one corner of his mouth curling up. “But now that I remember the words, there is no need to tie you down any longer.” 

“Oh. Right.”

It can finally come to an end. 

Ryoken lifts his hands. 

“May I?”

Takeru nods. Ryoken settles his hands at either side of his neck and shuts his eyes. The words come to him with ease now.

“ _...You, who I bound,_

_who has served me and abode my very word,_

_who is as familiar as my soul,_

_I let you go, now,_ ”

In the midst of his demise, when he’d performed the pact, his words had been lost in the chaos. Now, Takeru can clearly hear them. They feel more intimate.

Like a goodbye. 

Ryoken opens his eyes; his and Takeru’s bodies are alight. Takeru is watching him intently.

“I say your name, and break the pact,” Ryoken finishes. “ _Takeru._ ”

The connection snaps under his fingertips and Takeru’s breath hitches. The light dims and Ryoken lowers his hands.

“...And it is done.”

Takeru blinks, taking a look at himself.

“Are you sure? I don’t feel any different…”

“I am certain. I felt the--” Ryoken stops, seeing Takeru step back with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

_Oh no._

His knees are bent, tail wagging behind him. Ryoken only has time to take a short breath before Takeru tackles him into the water behind him.

“Huh, you’re right,” Takeru is grinning, atop of him, droplets dripping down his hair. “I couldn’t do that before. Guess it did work.”

Ryoken gasps, drenched from head to toe, and pushes at Takeru’s chest.

“You just wanted to get back at me, didn’t you?”

“Yup! You had it coming.”

Ryoken rolls his eyes and pushes Takeru again. 

“Get off.”

“Why don’t you order me to? Oh, that’s right!” Takeru puffs out his chest, throwing his head back. “You can’t!”

“Ha. Ha.” Ryoken deadpans. “Do you plan for us to stay in the water all day then? Or are you distracting me before killing me?”

That makes Takeru pause and look at him. 

“...Hm,” His hand curls over the side of his neck, thumb settling over his throat. “I did want to.” 

Ryoken holds his breath, the point of Takeru’s claw grazing his chin. Only now does Ryoken notice his pupils are red and dark ringed, amber eyes staring him down. Yet the hostility from all that time ago feels diluted. A small part lingers, merely an echo. 

“Well?” Ryoken, ever the goader, leans against Takeru’s hand. “Will you?”

Takeru’s thumb presses down for a beat--then draws back.

“I said it before,” He stands up, shaking himself and splashing water everywhere. “You’d be a pity prize.”

Takeru holds out his hand, expression solemn.

“Killing you wouldn’t make me feel better.”

“...I see.” Ryoken takes his hand and pulls himself up, coming toe to toe with Takeru. They look at each other before averting their gazes. 

After months of being bound together, Ryoken should say something. 

_Thank you,_ maybe. _I’m sorry._

“I suppose that I can get out of your hair, now.” He says, instead.

“I guess,” Takeru mumbles back.

When they are almost back at the cabin, Takeru adds:

“There’s still people keeping watch of the forest. On you. So, you know,” He rubs the back of his head. “If you want to hide a bit longer ‘round here...”

Ryoken stares after him when he hurries through the door. He hugs his bag to his chest before he enters too.

There’s really no reason to stay anymore. 

Knowing that there's people still keeping watch only solidifies Ryoken’s idea to go. He can’t risk putting Takeru into further danger--to put him in the middle of his fight.

If he goes, they’ll follow after him. 

The sun is high, but starting its descent, when he finishes packing his bag. Takeru is out. At the last moment, Ryoken decides to leave a note under a cup on the table.

He takes one last look at the cabin. 

Small, and cozy, with that earthy and sandalwood smell Ryoken has become accustomed to. Sweet, warm. This might be the one place Ryoken misses, from all the nooks and crannies he’s stayed in while on the road. 

It was fun while it lasted. But Ryoken can never stop running, even if the past always finds him where he goes. 

Before he can hesitate, he opens the front door and walks out.

* * *

Takeru stares at the note on the table. 

> _Apologies for the trouble up till now._
> 
> _Take care, puppy._
> 
> _\--Ryoken._

Clicking his tongue, Takeru scrunches the paper up and tosses it aside. _That idiot_. 

He could have at least said goodbye to Takeru’s face.

This is fine. Takeru wanted him to leave! He can finally go back to how things were. Him, the cabin, the whole forest all to himself. Not worrying about humans invading it. No more _Takeru_ this, or _Takeru_ that, or the smell of Ryoken’s magic wafting through the air: sticking to the walls, the chair he sat in, the books he’d borrowed. 

The cabin reeks like him now. Takeru should air it out.

 _Yeah._ He opens a window.

The sun that comes in catches on specks of dust, casting shadows across his living room. One corner of the carpet is smudged with dirt. Grandma would have chastised him for it. Grandpa would have bumped into the chair that he forgot to tuck in and curse. The cup that’d sat atop the note still has some water that Ryoken left. Didn’t even have the decency to leave it in the kitchen. 

Takeru picks up the discarded note by the door. Reads it over again and the words don’t speak. It’s loudly empty around him.

Again.

It’s fine. It’s what he wanted. Ryoken could already be further than the edge of the forest by now. Running from the people after him.

Takeru doesn’t feel like someone is keeping watch anymore.

Which means they left. Following him.

“... _Dammit_ \--”

Takeru curses that stupid binding pact for making him rush out the door. It must have had a side-effect on him. If not for it, he wouldn’t be sniffing the air and listening in for traces of which way Ryoken went. He can’t _sense_ him anymore.

Tracking his scent isn’t hard. He took the way up the hill, diverting from the path circling the forest. The more Takeru goes that way, the more his bad feeling grows--

\--and then he smells blood.

Desperation beats at his chest.

_Stupid pact, stupid Ryoken, stupid magic._

The smell of blood is moving. Cutting through trees, Takeru arrives by the river that later descends into the waterfall. It’s shortly after that that he sees him: Ryoken is running down the length of it. His cheek is bleeding. 

Ryoken’s eyes widen when he sees him too.

“Takeru?”

“Idiot! What did you think you were--” Takeru’s ears jump up. He hurries to meet Ryoken half way and pushes them both to the ground just as a shot rings out.

Soon after, two humans emerge from within the trees to their right. One with a sword. The other has a rifle.

_More mercenaries._

Takeru stands over him, baring his fangs at them. They recoil for a moment but they don’t back down. The man with the rifle aims for him.

“Hand the witch over. His head is worth a pretty penny.”

“Jeez, how much money is on you?” Takeru flicks Ryoken a look.

“Did I fail to mention I am a _wanted man_?” He says with a small wheeze as he sits up. “Son of a powerful witch. What did you expect?”

“Enough chit chat,” The swordsman cuts the air with his weapon. “If we have to bring you in dead, we will.”

“Think we’ll get anything for a wolf, too?”

“Do not even _think_ about it,” Ryoken slings his bag off his shoulder as he stands. His hands glow, battle ready. “Takeru, defend yourself.”

Ryoken doesn’t have to tell him twice. Takeru jumps towards the rifleman.

_This will be a breeze._

In comparison to him, his opponent is slow. Takeru pushes him back and prevents him to shooting. He glimpses at Ryoken while he fights: his form is elegant and controlled, evading sword attacks as though he’s dancing around them. With the river at his disposal, he wraps water around the swordsman's wrist and twists the weapon off his grip. 

Takeru smirks. Ryoken is not a half bad fighter.

His attention goes back to his opponent as he catches him taking aim. Takeru's faster than his projectiles, side stepping them with ease and propelling forwards. Takeru brings his claws down on the man but he scrambles back and runs into the forest. Takeru goes after him and tackles him to the ground. They tumble on the grass until Takeru pins him down and snatches the rifle from his hands. He snaps it in two.

“You think your little _toy_ can harm me?”

The man smells of fear, sweat gathering at his brow. Maybe Takeru will spare him. It's so much funnier watching them run and trip over themselves.

But then the man’s lips curl up and-- 

\--a shot rings out from behind.

The smell of gunpowder.

_Splash._

Takeru’s blood turns to ice while the man below him laughs.

“He got ‘im.”

Possessed by a sudden, vicious rage, Takeru grabs the man’s face and _slams_ his head against the ground. 

That shuts him up.

Takeru doesn't stay long enough to check if that killed him. He's already rushing back.

Ryoken is nowhere in sight. 

The man from before, his sword tossed to a side, has a rifle in his grasp. The end of it is smoking. It must have been hiding within his coat.

The man turns and bodily flinches when he sees him. Some of Ryoken’s blood splatters his clothes.

It all happens so quick, it barely registers in Takeru’s mind.

Takeru lunges towards the man. He shoots, grazing his neck. Takeru brings his arm back--

 _Don't kill him_. Ryoken's voice.

\--he slashes up, sharp claws tearing through clothes and flesh. A scream and the man's back hits the ground, holding his torn shoulder.

“ _Crawl back the way you came._ Before I change my mind.”

Wheeling around, he bolts down the river.

_Ryoken._

There’d been a splash. Ryoken must have fallen and now is on his fast descent towards the waterfall. _That idiot_. Takeru sniffs the air, tracking the scent of damp blood. It’s drawing nearer.

He finds Ryoken clinging to the side of a rock. Right on time for his grip to slip and for him to go back under.

Takeru doesn’t think twice before he jumps in the water. The stream is merciless, the current loud in his ears, but Takeru has a one track mind at that moment. He stretches out his arm and grasps Ryoken’s hand. Pulls him in and yanks his head above water. Ryoken gasps and splutters.

“Hold on to me!”

Ryoken’s arm loops around him, clutching his side. Going against the current would be foolish; they attempt to swim towards shore, but it’s becoming evident to Takeru that Ryoken _can’t fucking swim_. It’s like pulling dead weight.

“ _Takeru_ \--” Ryoken warns, tugging at him. 

“Don’t tell me--” Takeru hisses. “Waterfall up ahead?”

“Yes.”

“Well, _fuck._ ”

There’s no time to grasp firm ground; the river dips and Takeru holds onto Ryoken tightly as they _go down_.

They scream. Takeru shuts his eyes tightly--

\--and all of a sudden he’s not falling anymore.

He opens his eyes. Looks up, the top of the waterfall is far away. Looks down, the pool of water just a few meters from them. Looks to Ryoken--he’d let go off Takeru and has both arms outstretched, palms down, body alight. His face is scrunched up in concentration.

They are _floating_. 

It lasts an instant, though, because the next Ryoken sags and they fall the short distance into the water. Takeru maneuvers them underwater and pulls Ryoken into him. Without a current, he easily carries them both to the edge of the pool, where the ground raises again.

Takeru flops on his back against the rocky surface, Ryoken on top of him, both catching their breath. Ryoken lets out a hacking cough, spluttering some water. Takeru sits them up, patting his back.

“Thanks,” Ryoken wheezes, wobbling. Takeru surveys him over: the rifle caught his right shoulder, minimally. He has a few scrapes on his legs, from sharp rocks or debris in the river. He generally looks wrecked but otherwise unharmed. 

Ryoken reaches to touch his neck.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.” Takeru says. He’s still holding Ryoken in his arms. 

He’s so thin, shivering. Takeru almost--

“Takeru,” Ryoken calls. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fucking fine!” Takeru snaps. He grabs Ryoken’s arms and jostles him a little. “You stupid, fucking idiot. You knew those guys were there, didn’t you? _Why did you leave?_ You knew they were ready to kill you, If--If I hadn’t been there you’d be--”

“I thought you wanted me out of your forest as soon as possible,” Ryoken mutters. “Do you care, now, puppy?”

Takeru makes a frustrated noise low on his throat.

“Shut up,” Takeru crouches, wrapping both arms around the back of Ryoken’s legs before hoisting him over one shoulder. Ryoken makes a small surprised noise. 

“You could have fucking waited till you didn’t have people waiting for you.”

“You do not have to carry me like a sack of potatoes,” Ryoken protests weakly, batting at his back. “...Those men were waiting for me as you say. I thought it best I leave, lest they try to ambush you as well."

"Aw, so _y_ _ou_ care, witch?”

Ryoken remains quiet.

Takeru takes them back to the cabin, dripping water all over the entrance and the hall to the room Ryoken has been using. Formerly his. He places Ryoken down on the edge of the bed.

Patching each other’s cuts has become a familiar act. Ryoken removes his shirt and Takeru cleans his shoulder. A life on the run is scratched over Ryoken’s body, like faded writing that is never fully erased. 

Takeru cleans the cut on his cheek, too. His hand lingers longer than necessarily, cupping the side of his face.

_Reckless witch._

_Why do you make me so--_

The skin under his palm grows warmer and Ryoken takes the cloth from him, insisting on looking over his neck. 

The room is painted in orange and red hues, as the sun comes down outside. Ryoken’s earrings dangle and glint when he tilts his head. 

“...I do. Care,” Ryoken speaks, slowly. A reply to his earlier question. “I did not want you to be harmed simply because of my presence. I do not want you to be hurt. It is the least I can do for you.” The light gives him a much softer look, like his touch against Takeru’s skin. Long lashes fluttering over his downturned eyes.

"I cannot fix what is broken...or heal your aching. I cannot make amends for all of my father’s sins, nor my own mistakes down the road. In those men’s eyes, and yours, I am just as much of a sinner.”

A non humorous laugh escapes him.

“...Sometimes I believe I should have let them execute me along with Father years ago,” He reaches out and brushes a thumb to Takeru’s lips where his fangs peek out. “Or...perhaps I should have let you tear my throat apart that day. Let you believe you got rid of the man that caused you so much pain.”

“... _Stupid._ ” Takeru pushes him down on the bed and covers his head with the blanket. Ryoken lets out an indignant squeak.

“Your wound must have got infected again and you’re delirious with fever.”

“Takeru--” Ryoken lifts the covers.

“Don’t. Just--shut up. You _dying_ isn’t going to make up for shit.” _It won't make me feel better_. “If you want to atone, all you got left is _living_.”

There's a pregnant pause. Ryoken taps the back of his hand, which has taken to clutch the sheets. He uncurls it and examines his claws.

“You know, for someone that once wanted me dead, you have turned out to be such a softie,”

“Fuck you.”

“It is a compliment.” Ryoken adds, brushing his damp fur over the back of his hand. “You're gentle.”

Takeru snorts.

“Yeah, well those guys that attacked us would disagree if they could.”

Ryoken looks up.

“...Did you kill them?”

“If they bleed out to death or get eaten by some animal,” Takeru says. “It's not my problem.” He glances at their hands. Takes Ryoken's in his. “I held back. But for a moment, I really wanted to kill them.” He lifts his gaze. “For hurting you.”

“Oh.” Ryoken looks down. His cheeks wear a faint blush. “We are no longer bound. You can stop acting like my familiar.”

“Maybe it's a side effect.”

The pause has a different tension to it. Implications that neither acknowledge.

The moment breaks as Ryoken sneezes. He draws his hand back and rubs his arms.

"...I left my bag upstream," He says. "May I request a change of clothes?"

Takeru rolls his eyes at the formality in his voice. He leaves for a moment and comes back with a shirt and pants that are too big on him. He tosses them at Ryoken.

"By the way,” Takeru says. “I can take care of myself. So don’t run off to your death again, idiot.” He tucks his head down. "...If you want, leave tomorrow when the sun is down. It’ll be easier to slip unnoticed at night."

Ryoken glances down at the shirt and pants in his hands, brushing his thumbs over the fabric. He nods.

"...Okay."

Takeru watches him slip the shirt sleeves on before he lets him be. His own clothes cling to him, but he can change them later. He decides to go back up the stream to search for Ryoken's bag first—and check if those two are still there.

When he arrives, he sniffs it out easily enough. The bag is right behind a rock by the riverside. He slings it over one shoulder and takes a look around.

There's a patch of drying blood where the swordsman fell, and a trail further upstream. The man is nowhere to be found. 

The rifleman isn't where he left him, either.

_...Maybe some animal did eat them._

Shrugging, he runs back. The air around him ruffles his fur and feels nice against his skin: its growing more and more humid by the day, summer right around the corner. 

It feels longer than three months. If not for the changing of seasons, Takeru wouldn't have been aware of the passing of time before. It was all the same, every day, and he was content with it. He told himself he was—he is.

One single new presence had made something shift. Like a stick poking at a bees nest, Ryoken had smashed it and sent the whole colony flying and buzzing all at once in a rage. The emotions Takeru thought he'd long buried to guard his heart, or the ones that are always there, always embers, turning into flames again.

Anger is no stranger. It's familiar, and easy to slip into.

Yet some feelings Takeru wishes had never awoken again. But they can't be stopped, stuck between his heart and his ribs like a knife. Uncomfortable. Stinging. The moment he pulls the blade out they'll all bleed out on the earth and the flowers that grow won't be pretty.

Walking back in the cabin, a part of him expects Ryoken will have fled, again. But when he checks up on him, he’s passed out on the bed, one leg dangling off the edge. Even asleep, he doesn’t look relaxed, a small frown etched between his brows. His hair is still wet against the pillow. 

_He’s going to catch a cold._

Moments like this, he forgets the knife. The warmer feelings--softer ones, forgotten ones--confuse him and act out almost without consent. Months ago, with Ryoken in such a vulnerable position, he could have killed him.

Now he reaches for the covers to throw them over Ryoken.

As soon as he gets close, though, Ryoken stiffens and his eyes startle open. Only when he sees Takeru does he blink and relax.

“Oh. I fell asleep.” He glances at the bag. “Ah, thank you for retrieving it.”

Takeru hums, placing it by the bed.

He turns just as Ryoken reaches for his wrist.

“And thank you for...” His eyes flicker between Takeru and the ground. “...for coming to my aid, earlier.”

“I’m getting so many thank yous today,” Takeru says. “Sure you don’t have a fever?”

Ryoken huffs, letting him go.

“I am not _ungrateful_ ,” Ryoken says. “Though, I must say, jumping into the river was a reckless move on your part.”

“Yeah, well--” Takeru flicks his forehead, which finally gets Ryoken to look up. “If I hadn’t, you would have drowned. You’re a bad swimmer. I don’t know how you survived this long.”

“Rivers and I have bad history,” Ryoken cards his fingers through his hair, ruffling it more than it already was. “The people of my village attempted to drown me after my Father was executed. I suppose they thought that was a gentler execution for a child.”

Takeru stares. His ears and tail lower.

“ _Ryoken._ ”

“Hm?” Ryoken blinks. “Oh, apologies. Was that...too much?”

_How can you say that so casually?_

It's when Ryoken is most honest that Takeru sees double. Who he knows Ryoken to be and who he's learning he is.

“It’s fine, Takeru.” 

“No, it’s fucking _not_.”

Ryoken doesn’t argue further. His expression appears unperturbed but he just looks...resigned. Numb to it.

“...Come on,” Takeru turns around. “I’m going to make dinner. Give me a hand for being a handful today.”

“Hah,” The bed creaks and Ryoken follows after him, peeking over his shoulder. “Should _I_ be the dinner as an apology?”

Takeru chokes on air, the heat rising to his face. He whirls towards Ryoken who has a smug grin etched across his face. He walks past Takeru.

“My, it was a joke,” Ryoken throws over his shoulder. “Don’t be so innocent, Takeru.”

“And you called _me_ a pervert!”

They bicker all the way to the kitchen, and then some while cooking.

Ryoken is also useless there. Except for cutting things. 

Neither mention tomorrow.

* * *

It’s a bit anticlimactic how soon the next evening arrives. Ryoken didn't have to pack anything again, except for a few food provisions Takeru gave him for the road.

The sun is almost completely gone, violets and purples coloring the sky and shadowing their faces. Ryoken has a small round light on the palm of his hand to watch where he goes.

“Well…”

“I…”

Saying goodbye is awkward. Takeru gets why Ryoken left without a word yesterday. 

“Don’t die,” Takeru settles for. Ryoken hums a short chuckle.

“I will try not to.” A small smile lingers in place. “I--”

Howling pierces the air. Takeru’s hairs stand on end, listening in to the message. His eyes widen.

“What?” Ryoken asks.

“There’s--” Takeru's ears twitch as they catch another noise. “Humans. Several of them, coming...this way?”

“How many?”

“I don’t know--But it sounds like a lot. You go, I’ll investigate.”

“Let me come with you.”

“You’ll just slow me--” One look at Ryoken says he’ll follow him anyways. Takeru sighs. “Okay, fine! Get on my back.”

Transforming is second nature to him: arms and legs extending into large paws, his whole body crouching to a crawl. He gestures with his head towards his back.

Ryoken slings one leg at either side of him and leans his torso along his back. Once he’s looped his arms around his neck, Takeru dashes off into the night. 

“Woah,” Ryoken clings tighter for a second. Takeru hears him gasp over the sound of the wind. “You’re--fast.”

 _Of course I am_. Takeru takes pride in it. From the cabin, he arrives at the edge of the forest within minutes. They hides among bushes some distance away, spotting torch fire. Ryoken gets off and Takeru transforms back.

It’s a large group of villagers. Most done pitchforks, torches, or sharp farming tools. A few have more elaborate weapons, like the mercenaries that came before. They are following a designated path through the forest, heading for the cabin.

“Why are they coming in such a large group now?” Ryoken whispers. “...Takeru. Did you kill any of the men yesterday, after all?”

“I told you, if they bleed out--”

“ _Takeru_.”

“I don’t know, okay!”

“How do you _not know?_ ”

“I didn’t stay to check if I had!” His voice is hushed but irritated. “When I went to get your bag they were gone. I thought some animals had eaten them…” He scans the group of villagers and then he spots him. “Wait. That’s rifle guy.”

Not carrying a rifle, this time, but a spear and with bandages around his head. His partner isn’t in sight.

“He survived. And alerted the village,” Ryoken sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You got careless.”

“Yeah, well, save me the scolding! I wasn't thinking when—whatever.” Takeru pauses, watching the torch lights fade as the group advances. “...You could get away now. While they are here.”

They are close to the path that circles the forest. With so many people focused on this place, Ryoken could slip past unnoticed. A chance like this won’t come again so easily.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ryoken stands up. “I won’t abandon you to fend against them on your own.”

Takeru looks up at him. With his eyes used to the dark, Takeru can see him smirking despite the odds. Confident. 

“You got a plan?”

“Perhaps,” Ryoken turns to him. “We will require some assistance.”

“...Alright. Lay it on me.”

The villagers are still far from the cabin, but Ryoken's plan requires them to go somewhere else. 

They are at the wolf’s den, surrounded by the pack. The cubs sniff at Ryoken curiously while the adults stand to attention as Takeru relays the information Ryoken gave him. Fighting such a big group would be senseless, he said, and put them at risk thus this is all one big, diversion and scare scheme.

“We do not have much time,” Ryoken claps his hands together. “So let us get started.”

There are different barks and noises of ascent. A few of the wolves will go with Ryoken, while Takeru is to remain here with the rest and be ready to do their part. Before Ryoken goes, Takeru catches his eye.

“Be careful.”

Ryoken nods. He disappears among bushes with the wolves in tow.

Takeru turns to the others. The cubs are already inside the cave den, safe and hiding with their mother. All except for the pack leader are in standby behind bushes. 

“ _Sorry to involve you in this mess_ ,” Takeru says. The large wolf barks quietly, lifting his head high. 

_Our forest. Our mess, too_.

Takeru smiles. 

Both their ears perk up at the sound of yelling and stomping against the ground. The humans are on the move--being directed this way. The pack leader and him turn to take their places.

“ _Get ready everyone_!”

* * *

* * *

The group consists of over fifteen people from the village south from the forest. 

They don’t very well know what they are getting into, but they have all heard about the Witch. Bounty hunters have come here before trying to catch him and earn money for his head. 

Unsuccessful, all of them, which only kept spurring others to try. However, when one turned up with a deep wound at the village's door, and ultimately bled to his death, it was the last straw: they decided to come together to eradicate the Witch once and for all. With a group as large as this, there’s no way they’ll fail in catching it.

The forest is dark but their torches lead the way. The partner of the swordsman that’d lost his life is with them: he knows where to go, he says. He’d been watching the forest for quite some time before he tried to engage the Witch. There’s a cabin. The Witch is not alone—his familiar is dangerous too. 

It’s all going smoothly until they hear the first howl. They ignore it and trudge on.

Then come the sudden flashes: cracking like thunder, at either side of them. A few startle, others try to illuminate the perpetrator with their torch but find nothing.

“What’s going on?”

Ruffling, among bushes, growling. Just wolves--

The growling becomes louder, behind them, and when they turn they see a flash of light and a big, looming shadow. The beast howls as though from the depths.

In fear, they attempt to swat at it with their weapons--and hit nothing.

“There!”

The beast is now in front of them. No, beside them! It keeps evading their attacks, as though it were fast as lightning, or made of thin air.

A retreat would be wise. They don’t know what they are dealing with. But they hear ruffling up ahead and see a silhouette running away along with the beast. 

“The Witch!”

“After them!”

“No, that’s not the way to the--”

The man’s words are ignored. He has no choice but to follow. 

Feet trample over dirt and sticks in the ground, until the trees part into a clearing.

It’s dead quiet. There’s a cave, carved into a high rocky wall. No one is here.

“ _Who dares invade my den?”_

Or so they think.

A sudden burst of fire and the imposing shadow projects upon the wall, in the shape of a large wolf. 

The villagers give mixed cries of astonishment.

“What is that?!” 

“Not what, but who!” The thunderous voice says. “I’m the _guardian deity_ of this forest. I said, who dares bother me in my _home_!”

The man with the bandaged head parts the sea of people, holding tight onto his spear.

“We know there’s a witch hiding here! Hand him over!” He points the blade forwards. “You’re no guardian. You sound just like the wolfman I met yesterday. My partner died because of you!”

“Witch?” The shadow throws its head back. “Ah, _him_? Yeah, yeah.”

Something is tossed by the man’s feet.

It's a pile of bones.

“I ate him already.”

The villagers cower back.

“B-But--” The man looks between the bones and the shadow. “You came to rescue him. I saw you two together, you’re his familiar--”

“Hah! As if! It was more of the other way around. He ran away after fulfilling our pact because he knew his fate,” The voice replies. “But see, I don’t like people laying their hands on what is _mine_. That was your partner’s mistake. You got lucky I held back on you. However...”

Among the trees and bushes circling the den, wolves emerge, their eyes glowing. Their teeth are bared menacingly. 

“Seeing as you’re stupid enough to come back, maybe we’ll have all of you as a meal,” A barking laugh. “Or, or maybe I’ll _curse_ you! _Ha-ha-ha!_ ”

Several of the villagers exclaim at that. 

“No!”

“Spare us!”

“Don’t be idiots!” The man at the front holds out his arm. “This is a trick! T-There’s no way a _god_ exists in this forest--”

“You want to bet?”

The fire goes out, abruptly, like a candle. A stronger gust of wind blows out the torches, too, and everything is engulfed in the cloak of the night. Frantic muttering breaks out within the group, many huddling together. Their eyes dart in every direction but they can’t see a thing. Even the moon and its pale light has abandoned them.

“I’ve tolerated enough from humans coming into this forest. This is your last and _only_ warning.” The voice says. They can’t locate it--it’s as though it’s nowhere and everywhere at once.

“Leave now with your pitiful lives or _**else**_...”

From within the depths of the cave, a growling grows. Closer, and closer, sparks crackling until fire is born anew. 

Stepping in front of them is a wolf made out of _flames_ , yellow eyes staring them down.

No one present has ever seen any creature like it. It’s mere presence seems to command the air surrounding them. It's otherworldly.

It lets out a mighty howl, piercing through the darkness. The wolves that surround them each join in one by one. 

It’s a warning.

The last and only one.

No one wants to stay to learn what this being can do to them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“I don’t want to be cursed!”

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

With no light to guide them, they turn on their heels and run, run, run, tripping over themselves. The flashes return, urging them on, until they are far from the heart of the forest and on their way back home.

* * *

* * *

It’s peaceful once more.

Takeru puts off his flames and transforms back, holding onto the wall. Using his powers during the night has depleted his energies but he has enough to let out a _whoop_ of victory. The rest of the pack is also in high spirits, their tails wagging side to side. 

“Great work, great work!” Takeru ruffles a couple of their heads and they return the gesture with a nuzzle. Their eyes have stopped glowing, meaning Ryoken’s spell faded. 

“You guys were so into it--ah, hey!”

From the path the villagers ran towards, Ryoken emerges with a wolf at either side of him and a mage light floating above his palm. The wolves bark and run to meet the rest of the pack.

The moment Ryoken spots him, he smiles. But then his lips wobble--and he starts to laugh, softly but uncontrollable. 

“Hello to you too, g _uardian deity of the forest_.” He says, bending forwards. “That--That was not in the _plan_ \--”

Takeru's cheeks burn. He lightheartedly punches Ryoken on his good shoulder.

“Shut up! I-I didn't know what to do and went with my gut—and it worked!”

“Yes—it did. Hah! Their expressions were--”

“--priceless right?” This time, Takeru joins in laughing. “They totally bought it!” He nudges Ryoken. “Your plan was a big success.”

“The credit is not mine alone,” Ryoken seems to glow under the mage light. His eyes crease as they look at Takeru. “You surpassed my very expectation, Takeru. It was perfect.”

“Hehe,” Takeru puffs his chest proudly and points with a thumb behind him. “Wouldn’t have managed it without these guys.”

The wolves have all regrouped. The pack’s leader comes striding in, from behind a boulder, tall and proud: the guardian deity's imposing shadow.

“Truly. They were a major help,” Ryoken nods, a small smile lingering. “Hopefully after this humans won’t come bother you anymore.”

“Or you. Since, well, I killed you,” Takeru kicks the bones he’d tossed. They are (probably?) not human bones, but assorted ones from one of the pack’s meals. In the dark it’d be hard to tell them apart.

“Eaten by a wolf god,” Ryoken muses out loud, humor in his voice. “There are worse ways to go, I suppose. I will have to rely on disguises but I expect my travels will be a quiet affair for some time…” He trails off. His smile falls, turning his eyes away.

Right.

That’s what this was all for, in the end. Ryoken is leaving. 

Clearing his throat, Ryoken adjusts the strap of his bag. He gives Takeru a pat on the shoulder.

“Thank you, for everything, Takeru. I...I should leave.”

“...Yeah.”

Ryoken’s hand falls away. He pulls the hood of his coat over his head and turns to go.

Takeru watches his back for a beat, two--

“Do you have a plan of where you’ll go next?”

Ryoken stops on his tracks. 

“...Not really.” He says.

“Well you could _\--_ ” Takeru swallows. “You _should_ _stay_ here a bit longer. Lay low just in case. You always said you never get a chance to practice magic on the run either, so…”

Takeru’s heart pounds in his ears.

“...so if you stay you could, and…” He curls his fists, staring at his feet. “...there's places in the forest you haven't even seen yet so...”

It’s such a lousy excuse. 

But if he lets Ryoken go now, will Ryoken become nothing more than a memory that is bound to fade in Takeru’s mind? Like the spring breeze, fleeting, gone with the seasons. The same as his parents voices and faces that grow dimmer and dimmer.

Ryoken awoke something in Takeru that he thought he couldn't remember—he doesn't want to forget again.

“Can I?”

Takeru looks up. Ryoken has turned around. His hood shadows his eyes, expression unreadable.

“Can I stay?”

“...Yeah,” Takeru steps towards him. “You can.” 

_Stay_.

Takeru reaches over and drags his hood back down. And Ryoken looks at him, with an open gaze that makes him seem younger. Younger and not like a man with demons and ghosts Takeru doesn’t know the name of chasing after him.

“...I suppose there is no harm in staying a bit longer,” It’s a whisper, filling the emptiness. One corner of Ryoken’s lips curls up. “I hope you do not complain about my magic reeking all over the place.”

Takeru’s whole body lifts. He smiles, all teeth.

“Haha! No promises there.”

The pack of wolves have all retired into the den, save for a few that remain to keep watch. The night has fully settled like a blanket, sprinkling exhaustion into their limbs.

“Come on,” Takeru tugs at Ryoken’s wrist. There’s no need to, because Ryoken is already walking beside him. Through the trees, walking over vines and leaves, a path they both know. 

“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A BIG thank you to all those that showed interest in this fic while it was in its planning stages and got excited for it along with me. And special shout-out to my cool friend Pachi that helped me with a little something extra for this chapter...if you found it while reading, you will understand what I mean KJKJSJKDK 
> 
> [ALSO LOOK AT THESE WOLFKERUUUS](https://twitter.com/ass_were/status/1317141538699358208?s=20) ;o; ;o; 
> 
> Some more stuff from the time I was planning this fic:  
> Art concepts: [(1)](https://twitter.com/moons0nata/status/1302321799456272384?s=20)  
> Edits: [(1)](https://twitter.com/moons0nata/status/1316886211156451328?s=20) [(2)](https://twitter.com/moons0nata/status/1317168134793711616?s=20) [(3)](https://twitter.com/moons0nata/status/1320134026414391297?s=20)  
> Memes [(1)](https://twitter.com/moons0nata/status/1312901940469215232?s=20)  
> [ONE EXTRA MEME](https://i.imgur.com/Tgk231g.jpeg)
> 
> \--  
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


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